Myne Owne Hertis Rote
by madsthenerdygirl
Summary: A series of windows into the journey of Merlin and Arthur's relationship.
1. Le Morte d'Arthur Timestamp

**Title: Myne Owne Hertis Rote**

**Rating: Well, given my track record…**

**Summary: A series of windows into the journey of Merlin and Arthur's relationship.**

**Disclaimer: Right now it's 99% canon. If I'd been one of the writers it would be 110% canon.**

**Author's Notes: This is a series of drabbles, spanning from season one to season five, so they contain spoilers. The title is Medieval English for, "Mine Own Heart's Root," which was a term of endearment at the time. You can thank the amazing Celeste. for coming up with the title. As a matter of fact, you can thank her for getting me into this television show in the first place.**

**Also, there is very little plot to these, as they are a supplement to the main plot of the episodes. Consider them deleted scenes or minor script rewrites.**

* * *

Merlin hated Arthur from the beginning. Of that, he was certain.

He was attracted to Arthur the moment the prince said, "I could take you apart with one blow," of that he was certain as well.

What he wasn't quite as certain of was when he fell in love with the prat.

Because Arthur _was_ a prat.

He was insensitive, boorish, impatient, condescending, selfish, quick to anger and blame, spoiled, brave, quick thinking, devoted, dedicated, handsome…

Damn it!

Of all the inconvenient crushes to have—really, being queer was one thing, something he couldn't really control, like magic, but falling in love with the son of the man who hated magic more than anything—and a Crown Prince to boot—that was just stupidity. And Merlin was not stupid, despite what Arthur and Gaius seemed to think.

Perhaps it had been when he'd shown Arthur the snakehead and Arthur had taken one look at him and said, "I believe you." He'd had no reason to believe Arthur, they barely knew each other by that point, and yet he'd trusted him. Merlin couldn't deny the memory gave him a small thrill in his stomach.

It might have been when he'd seen, in his fever, how Arthur was risking himself for Merlin's sake. He'd been dying and yet he'd somehow known the danger Arthur was in, and he had reacted instinctively to save Arthur.

Or, wait, it could have been when Arthur had risked everything—Uther's wrath, his own life—to save Ealdor from bandits. Ealdor wasn't even a part of Camelot and yet Arthur had not hesitated to help. Merlin found himself smiling at the memory and schooled his face into a stern expression.

Unauthorized smiles were another thing he'd been doing around Arthur lately, that and the fluttering stomach, the flushing cheeks, and the stumbling around. Really, no wonder Arthur thought he was so incompetent.

It was so bad he had a feeling Gwen suspected.

But no, no Merlin was going to be strong. He was going to deal with this crush as he had with all others—by suffering in silence until it went away. And it would eventually go away. It had to. (And the Great Dragon, Mr. You and Arthur Have a Shared Destiny, Mr. Two Sides of the Same Coin, could keep his thoughts to himself, thank you very much.)

That plan was actually going very well until Nimueh.

With Arthur balanced on the knife's edge between life and death, Merlin had not once hesitated to bargain his life for Arthur's. When he'd learned that the life traded had been his mother's he was upset, for she deserved life more than anyone else he knew, but he would fling himself again and again upon the sword so that Arthur could live.

It was then, standing in the rain, about to drink from the cup, that he knew. This wasn't just a crush. People with _crushes_ didn't do absolutely anything the object of their affection said, no matter how inane the request (order, in Arthur's case). They didn't picture spending the rest of their lives serving their crush and be perfectly content with that image. And they certainly didn't sacrifice their own lives without even a second thought.

He'd fallen in love.

Damn it, damn it, _damn_ it!


	2. The Curse of Cornelius Sigan Timestamp

**Since these are a series of timestamps for various episodes, the episode the chapter is the timestamp for will be in the chapter title.**

* * *

Arthur was in trouble.

And not the usual, magical monster and/or sorcerer attacking Camelot, Uther in a bad mood, Morgana up to something that would undoubtedly end with Arthur' humiliation kind of trouble. This wasn't even the at-death's-door kind of trouble. It was worse.

Arthur was in love.

Not that he'd ever put it that way out loud. He was a warrior, not a bard, and he'd never bought into the courtly love, send the girl flowers and horrendous love poetry deal. It was all a scheme, if you asked him. But he couldn't deny what he felt, unfortunately.

It was all Merlin's fault.

What right had he to go around being so unashamedly impudent and disrespectful and loyal and dedicated and selfless and, and, and flinging those charming smiles about and looking at Arthur like he hung the moon?

Yes. It was all Merlin's fault.

The looks didn't help. Oh, Merlin certainly hadn't looked like much when Arthur had first laid eyes on him. Scrawny, massive ears, chin on the pointy side… but he had come to admit, Merlin had his charms. There was the aforementioned charming smile, and the deep blue eyes that always seemed to be watching Arthur, as if there was nothing Merlin would rather do. There was a kind of odd grace to him, a way of moving that transformed the gangly frame and bony elbows into something to be watched with admiration, like a dancer or a bird. And his voice—most of the time it was just, well, a voice that happened to belong to Merlin, but sometimes it took on deeper, richer tones, where the vowels seemed to roll off of his tongue and it was all Arthur could do to ignore his tightened pants. Every day it looked more and more likely that Merlin's threat of being able to take him apart with less than one blow would come true. But Arthur could control it. He had been bred from birth to have absolute control. He wasn't going to let an insubordinate manservant—no matter how attractive or devoted—have a hold over him like this.

And it was going quite well until Cedric showed up.

Cedric, the traitor, who turned everything upside down by showing him what Merlin wasn't. He was quiet and meek and attentive and didn't even look a thing like Merlin, and _that was the problem_. Arthur found himself missing Merlin. His very stomach churned at his absence. He turned around expecting Merlin to be there, posed questions for Merlin to answer only to be met with silence, and reached out to grab Merlin only to close his hand around empty air. It was enough to make anyone's control snap.

But he could handle it. Of course he could handle it. He'd bite his tongue and will his erection down until he could take care of it in the safety of his own bed at night, and he'd ignore the urge to touch, to hold, to treasure.

Unfortunately, Arthur didn't realize the full extent of how much his control had slipped until after Cedric had been somehow defeated and Merlin was hauling him awake. It must have been a trick of the light, or he'd been hit harder on the head than he thought, but Merlin's eyes almost looked golden in that moment. The moon hit his skin and he seemed otherworldly somehow, a creature not fully of this world. But then he blinked and he was simply Merlin, Arthur's Merlin, normal and annoying and beautiful.

So he kissed him.

It was a bit stupid in retrospect, being out in the middle of the courtyard where anyone could see, but it was also dark and everyone was occupied with other things. So Arthur thrust aside such thoughts as _this is stupid_ and _we'll get caught_ in favor of reveling in the tiny shocked noises that Merlin was making. All in all Merlin seemed pretty shocked, but he wasn't pushing Arthur away, so Arthur considered that as much of a yes as anything.

It was at that point he realized he might be a bit entitled.

But Merlin was kissing him back, with more and more enthusiasm as they continued, and Arthur was used to getting what he wanted—which in this case was Merlin. He could definitely get used to having Merlin.

He was in so much trouble.


	3. So Much For That Plan

Merlin was initially determined not to have sex with Arthur.

Not that he didn't want to have sex with Arthur, in fact he very much wanted to have sex with Arthur, but Arthur was already a spoiled prat as it was, used to getting his way, and if Merlin jumped into bed with him after they'd been trying this relationship thing for only a week then what kind of message did that send? No, Merlin was going to do this properly. He was going to hold out until Arthur had proven his devotion and willingness to make this work and, and, and...

And something.

It was a little hard to think when Arthur had him pinned up against the wall like that.

"We—we should—don't stop, _don't stop_," he panted, his protest turning into a plea as Arthur continued to rock their hips together. Honestly, they were still fully dressed, it shouldn't be this mind-melting. But instead of pushing Arthur back and insisting that they wait, like a normal person, Merlin clutched at Arthur's hair and a handful of his shirt and crushed them together instead, letting Arthur suck a vicious bruise right at his collarbone.

"Bloody laces," Arthur growled, pulling away to focus on getting their pants off.

Merlin squeaked and tried to bat the prince's hand away. "We're in a corridor!" He hissed.

Arthur looked up at him and honest-to-God growled, his eyes such a dark blue that they were almost black. Merlin gulped, a shiver rushing through him at just how possessive Arthur looked. The prat, of course, took advantage of this and finished undoing their pants, and then he was slipping a hand inside Merlin's trousers and yes, all right, maybe objections could wait until his brain started working again.

It was, all things considered, rather unsophisticated. When he'd pictured this he'd usually imagined it being on the bed in Arthur's room, with soft light filtering in from somewhere (the window? candles?) and lots of pillows for propping things up and getting at just the right angle. Instead he wound up with his legs wrapped like a choking vine around Arthur's waist, his back scraping up against the wall (that would bruise tomorrow, he just knew it), sobbing into Arthur's mouth as the prince did absolutely criminal things with his tongue.

It was glorious.

Really, his imagination didn't measure up at all.

When he was finished, panting into Arthur's (still clothed) shoulder, he had a sneaking suspicion he was ruined for anyone else.

Then Arthur mouthed against the bolt of his jaw and growled, "We are going back to my room," in that stupid spoiled of-course-I'm-going-to-get-my-way voice and Merlin's suspicion became a certainty.


	4. The Morning After

There was nothing quite like waking up after a night of really fantastic sex.

Oh, sure, sometimes there was a bit of a mess involved but that nice ache in the muscles, the thick syrup satisfaction, the humming of possibility in your veins? Nothing like it.

Arthur nosed further into the neck of the body he was curled around, smiling sleepily. He got a rather choked sound in response, and lifted his head, blinking.

Merlin was staring at him like a hunted deer trying to decide if he should flee for his life or stay perfectly still and hope the hunter didn't notice him.

Arthur barely resisted the urge to bury his head into the pillow and groan.

He was going to do this _properly_. He was going to—all right, he wasn't going to shower Merlin with flowers or anything, but he was damn well going to do something romantic. He was going to let Merlin see the depth of his feelings and—

The depth of his feelings?

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

"Having second thoughts?" Merlin asked dryly. Apparently Merlin's sass didn't have an off switch, even early in the morning after three (four?) rounds of extremely enthusiastic sex.

"Why would I be?" Arthur countered. "Are you?"

"What?" Merlin frowned. "I'm sorry, you're talking to the bloke who's saved your life on several occasions."

"I don't think this was a life-threatening situation, Merlin."

"Right. Are you having second thoughts?"

About his feelings for Merlin? No. About the wisdom of fucking him blind last night? Yes.

Merlin seemed to take his silence for confirmation, however, and started to get out of bed. His face had that pinched, closed-off look it got when Arthur had done something to disappoint or hurt him. It was an expression, although he'd never say it out loud, that Arthur had been trying to avoid causing lately. Arthur blinked, unsure of what to say or do the rectify the situation.

Unfortunately, when unsure of what to say or do, he tended to revert to what Merlin called "prattish behavior."

"It's not like I was the one begging for," Arthur raised his voice a few octaves, "More, more god yes, never stop, please."

Merlin arched an eyebrow, halfway through putting his pants back on. "I seem to recall being promised three castles if I went 'just like that, perfect, fucking perfect'."

Arthur was pretty sure you could fry eggs on his face. "I did not promise you three castles."

"Yes, you did. And my weight in gold." Merlin's face grew thoughtful. "And that's not even the beginning of what you promised if I let you tie me to the headboard."

Arthur glanced up and saw Merlin's red neckerchief looped around one of the posts on the headboard, the fabric now rather soiled and hanging limply as if from extensive exertion. His face flushed even more. Merlin had looked rather nice tied up like that, and the way he'd tugged at the fabric and moaned...

Arthur swallowed, derailing that train of thought before he tackled Merlin and did it all over again. He looked up, only to find that Merlin was staring at him, eyes impossibly bright, his thin chest rising a little more quickly than usual.

What the hell. Arthur had never been good at being romantic anyway.

He held out his hand. "Come here."

Merlin scowled. "If you think that I'm just going to obey your every command now like some kind of paramour—"

"Merlin." Arthur lowered his voice to a growl, remembering how it had made Merlin react last night. "Come. Here."

Merlin flushed all the way from his chest to the roots of his hair, nearly tripping over his pants as he scrambled to get back into bed.

Arthur grinned. This was going to be fantastic.


	5. Hiding

**Set around the time of "Lancelot and Guinevere" but doesn't really pertain to any specific episode.**

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to hide their relationship from Uther.

Part of it was that Uther only ever saw what he wanted to see, and if he didn't want to see his son in a homosexual relationship with his manservant then by God he wasn't going to see it.

At first they were extremely cautious. Merlin would pretend to go to sleep in his room, wait until Gaius had fallen asleep, and then sneak back into Arthur's room, slipping away at dawn to return to his own quarters. Arthur stopped touching Merlin in public at all, until Morgana asked him if he'd had a fight with Merlin and pointed out, with a bit of glee, that usually he couldn't seem to keep his hands off him. While Arthur had a few choice words to say about _that_, he had to admit that he had a habit of doing things like hauling Merlin around by his shirt collar, shoving him, thumping him on the shoulder, and the like.

They'd even refrained from hickeys, which was a lot harder to stick to when Arthur realized how addicted he was to Merlin's neck and collarbones and Merlin realized he rather liked biting Arthur's shoulder.

But as time went on and people didn't start whispering whenever they entered the room and the servants didn't start shunning Merlin and Morgana didn't trap Arthur in a corner to lecture him on _taking advantage_, as if Arthur could possibly make Merlin do anything he didn't want to do, they realized that they really didn't have to be so careful. So they relaxed a little.

Merlin promptly moved into Arthur's room (which meant Gaius had to be told, and that was a whole different story), Arthur endured Gwen's squeals because Merlin insisted she be told because she was his best friend or something ridiculous like that, and life went on as usual.

Which still left Uther.

While Gwen and Gaius seemed not only accepting but absurdly pleased with Arthur and Merlin's relationship—which baffled Merlin and greatly concerned Arthur—neither of them had any doubts as to what Uther would think about it. At best, he'd exile Merlin. At worst...

And then Gwen was captured by Hengist, Uther refused to rescue her, and Arthur got, well, pissed off. Servant or no, Gwen was a loyal woman, intelligent and loving, and had assisted both Merlin and Arthur more times than the prince cared to count. His father's callous behavior toward the lower classes—which included Merlin—made Arthur's blood boil.

Which led to an odd sort of rebellion in which Arthur fucked Merlin on the council table.

When Uther next held council, he wondered at the odd sticky texture, complained that someone hadn't cleaned up the wine properly from the banquet last night, and demanded a servant clean it up.

Merlin had flushed bright red and tried not to run out of the room from embarrassment.

Arthur just smirked.

It turned into a strange sort of game. Uther did something, Arthur grew angry, and he convinced Merlin to have sex somewhere pertaining to state matters. The council table saw a lot of action, as did the throne on two memorable occasions, plus the rug underneath Uther's dining table, a few pillars in the throne room, and directly underneath the Pendragon coat of arms.

It was shockingly easy to hide their relationship from Uther.

Sometimes, Merlin wondered if Arthur was even trying.


	6. Witchfinder Timestamp

Arthur could count the times he had been truly frightened on one hand: the first time he heard a thunderstorm, the time he and Morgana were wrestling and she fell off the bed and pretended she'd cracked her head open and he thought he'd killed her, the time he accidentally slept through a training session and he'd thought his father would personally behead him… and the time Merlin was accused of being a sorcerer by the Witchfinder.

Arthur had been against this whole Witchfinder deal from the beginning. Aredian might have thought he was doing good but his presence would only serve to cause hysteria among the court. He hadn't dared speak up against his father, not about this, but he did not agree with it. He'd told Merlin as such that night—or "ranted for over an hour," as Merlin had put it. But disagreeing with something was entirely different from fear.

The moment Aredian accused Merlin, Arthur felt his stomach drop. Merlin was innocent—he was the worst liar Arthur had ever seen, and besides, they'd been living in the same room for a couple of weeks now, surely Arthur would have seen Merlin practicing magic at some point. And Merlin was far from evil, magic or no. But he couldn't say all of this to his father. Uther wouldn't listen and would probably order Arthur to be punished for daring to care so much about a servant.

It didn't stop him from spending all night in the cell with Merlin, ready to beat the living daylights out of the first person who tried to harm him. Merlin protested that such measures weren't necessary, but Arthur had heard of Aredian's methods. He wasn't letting the Witchfinder anywhere near Merlin.

Even after Merlin had been proven innocent by Gaius's confession, Arthur was wary. He didn't want to let Merlin out of his sight. He kept reaching out for Merlin, making sure that he was still there. He didn't believe in Gaius's guilt either but that was nothing compared to the fear that froze his blood when he pictured Merlin at the executioner's block. It certainly didn't help that Merlin was distracted by Gaius's imprisonment and determined to free him, which meant he kept slipping away from Arthur's side, disappearing for hours at a time. It drove Arthur mad, made his skin itch and feel too small, stretched tight and dry over his muscles.

Only when it was all over, when Aredian was shown to be guilty of false accusations and underhanded methods, when Gaius was proven innocent and Uther was once again made to eat his words, only when Merlin was safe, did Arthur relax.

Well, to a point.

He was a little desperate that night, clutching at Merlin and kissing him until they both couldn't breathe, making the headboard tremble as it banged against the stone walls. Merlin made soothing noises and forced Arthur to go more slowly, whispering things like "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," and "We have time, we have all the time we want."

When he spent himself, he made a sound against Merlin's mouth that was rather close to a sob.

"I didn't know you cared," Merlin said afterward, a trace of his usual sass creeping in where only solemnity and urgency had been the past few days.

"I don't like to lose what's mine," Arthur replied. It was the closest he'd let himself get to understanding the panic he'd felt at seeing Merlin in the dungeon cell.

Merlin traced strange patterns into the skin of Arthur's chest—a habit he'd quickly picked up and seemed to use as a relaxation method. "What if Aredian had been right?"

"About what?"

"About my being a sorcerer?" Merlin looked up at him. "Would it change anything?"

Arthur looked down at him. Merlin's eyes were bright where Arthur's own were dark, like the sky to the sea. He had two hickeys, one at his clavicle and another at his pulse point on the side of his neck, and his lips were red and swollen from the biting and kissing. His hair was unbelievably mussed, and parts of his skin still carried droplets of sweat. His cheekbones and collarbones stood out, delicate frames for a pale, unearthly face.

He was beautiful.

He was also terrible at lying, far sassier than any servant had a right to be, stupidly loyal, annoying, didn't know when to shut up, unexpectedly wise, and absurdly good at blow jobs.

"As long as it didn't change you," Arthur replied. "I like you just fine the way you are."

Merlin's lips quirked up into a smile—a bittersweet smile, Arthur thought, and wondered why that should be—but then they were kissing again, and all Arthur could focus on was that the fear was gone, replaced by something warmer and deeper and infinitely more dangerous.


	7. The Once and Future Queen Timestamp

**Yes, I am aware that The Once and Future Queen comes before The Witchfinder. I accidentally posted the Witchfinder one first, and I apologize for any confusion!**

* * *

Arthur knows that Guinevere doesn't exactly approve of him. It's subtle, and she's never outright told him that he's a prat the way Merlin does, but he can tell. Normally he wouldn't mind but he happens to like Gwen—she's intelligent, pure hearted and gives good advice, not to mention Morgana is extremely fond of her—and even if he didn't like her she's Merlin's best friend and they're very protective of each other.

Which is why, when he decides to compete in the tournament incognito, he decides it's the perfect opportunity to win Gwen over.

Things do not go as planned.

Merlin dances around the sidelines, wondering what exactly his best friend and boyfriend are playing at with their sideways looks and muttered comments, but he's smart enough not to say anything. Whatever they've got going on, they are welcome to work it out on their own.

And, little by little, Arthur sees that he's earning Gwen's respect.

It takes a lot of trial and error (where, exactly, did that idea to cook _dinner_ come from?) but by the time the final day of the tournament is upon them, he's half convinced he's won her over.

When he lets William take the glory for the tournament, Merlin beams at him, one of those gleaming teeth, crinkled eye smiles that just might turn Arthur's stomach to mush, and he doesn't exactly object when Merlin kisses him, pride practically seeping out of his skin.

Gwen clears her throat, and the two of them break apart and turn. Arthur had forgotten that she was there, but now he's a little embarrassed. Crown Princes aren't supposed to be snogging people willy-nilly, and it's her best friend's throat he just stuck his tongue down.

But then Gwen winks at him, giving him a small smile, and just says, "Shall I leave you two alone then?"

And Arthur knows he's got her blessing. And, just maybe, he's gotten himself a new friend besides.


	8. Dinner Time

Gwen called it The Event. Uther called it The Day Arthur Was Unusually Ill. Arthur called it Torture. Gaius didn't call it anything, because he didn't know and let's keep it that way, thanks. Morgana actually nearly guessed the truth, because she called it The Day Arthur Tossed Off At Dinner.

Merlin just called it Fun.

Arthur was having a state dinner. Some lords of Camelot were visiting to discuss grain production and taxes and such, which although not every week was a usual enough visit that it didn't warrant a feast. Uther sat at the head, with Morgana on his left and Arthur on his right. Merlin was supposed to be serving Arthur, but had again decided that being a manservant just didn't tickle his fancy that day and had vanished shortly after the first course. Without Merlin there to murmur inappropriate jokes in his ear and poke quiet fun at the visiting lords, Arthur was bored beyond all reason. He was seriously considering going after Merlin as an excuse to leave the room when he felt something press against his crotch.

He flinched, inching away instinctively, and glanced around. No one was so much as looking at him. The only person who's foot could possibly reach all the way over to his lap were his father and Morgana, and neither of them would do anything like that. Besides, it didn't feel like a foot, it felt like a—

Long, elegant fingers began unlacing him and Arthur realized what was going on. He'd felt those same fingers do this dozens of times before, but always in his (their) bedroom or an empty corridor if they really couldn't wait that long.

"Merlin," Arthur hissed.

"Yes, my lord?" The words were barely distinguishable, hummed quietly against his thigh. Arthur remained still, not trusting himself to move.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought that'd be obvious." Merlin finished undoing his trousers and Arthur gripped his knife as he felt Merlin slip in between the fabric and pull him out. "You did seem rather bored."

"Arthur, what did that poor knife ever do to you?" Morgana asked, the corner of her mouth sliding upward.

He glared at her and stabbed a piece of his pork with a little more violence than necessary. Underneath the table, Merlin leisurely stroked him, working him to full hardness.

"More wine?" Gwen asked, glancing around the room as she offered him her jug. "I can't think where Merlin could be," she whispered, pouring the wine. "Did he say anything to you?"

Merlin squeezed the base of his cock and Arthur had to hold back a moan. "Uh, no, he didn't tell me what idiotic idea he got into his head." He took a sip of wine—and promptly choked as he felt Merlin lap at him with his tongue. Arthur spluttered, coughing._  
_

"Are you all right my—" Gwen froze and her eyes widened. Arthur felt himself flush as he realized that from her position hovering over him, Gwen could see everything.

He was never, ever living this down.

"I'll just, ah, get the others some more wine then," Gwen said, her words stumbling over each other.

"Yes, fine, thank you Gwen," Arthur replied, his teeth clenched. Morgana was eyeing him, one eyebrow raised skeptically. He glared at her, which took an awful lot of concentration seeing as Merlin was mouthing at him properly now, running his lips up and down the sides and sucking the tip of him into his mouth.

Really, Arthur would have liked nothing more than to slump back in his chair, close his eyes and enjoy the ride. He wouldn't have to worry about who heard him, and he could slide a hand through Merlin's hair to keep his head in place. They'd done this plenty of times back at his massive desk chair in his chambers as well as in the bed, but this was a _state dinner_. In _public_. With his _father_ right there.

Speaking of Uther...

"Are you all right, Arthur?" Uther asked, leaning on his elbow to look at his son. "You seem a bit feverish."

Morgana's eyes widened and she turned to look at Uther, then Arthur, her gaze roaming over his face. Arthur felt panic seep in. If Morgana found out about his relationship with Merlin he would never hear the end of it.

"Yes," Morgana drawled. "Perhaps you'd be better of in a bed, Arthur?"

Arthur had a snappy retort all ready to go, but Merlin took all of him in his mouth just then, making a contented little humming noise and instead of putting Morgana in her place Arthur ended up dropping his knife instead.

"I'm fine, Father, really," he said, managing a smile at Uther.

"Arthur, if you are ill—"

"No, no I'm—I'm perfectly fine, I promise."

"I'm sure you are," Morgana added.

Arthur gave partway to temptation, slipping one of his hands under the table to run his fingers through Merlin's hair, cradling his head. Merlin made an approving noise and slid his hands up Arthur's thighs, parting them a little more.

Gwen passed along the opposite side of the table and gave him a warning glare above Morgana's head, mouthing _are men really that horny or are you two just unusually stupid_. Arthur gave her a combination of an angry glare and a _what am I supposed to do_ look. Gwen swept away, unimpressed.

Merlin wasn't moving fast enough—the pressure was building deliciously but it wasn't reaching that critical point, it wouldn't be enough to finish him and end this torture. He tugged gently at Merlin's hair, causing him to pull off (which led to a suppressed whimper) and look up, blinking innocently. Arthur glanced around, made sure no one was looking, and then glanced back down at Merlin, making a _may I_ gesture.

Merlin grinned like the cheeky bastard he was and whispered, "Wondered when you'd ask."

This time as Merlin's lips slid up his shaft, Arthur thrust his hips slightly, adding to the rhythm. He couldn't move too much or someone would notice, but it was enough to bring him to the point of no return. Then Merlin swallowed and he stiffened, clenching his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth would crack and still not managing to completely muffle his groan, his eyelids fluttering, the hand not tangled in Merlin's hair spasming so that it sent his wine glass clanging to the floor.

"Oh dear, what a mess," Morgana said, her tone implying that she wasn't talking about the wine.

"I'll get it!" Merlin said. Arthur blinked. The ass had maneuvered himself around the opposite side of Arthur's chair and gotten a rag from somewhere, and was now innocently kneeling by pooled wine, wiping it up.

"Arthur, really, if you're sick you have every right to retire early," Uther said.

Merlin inched his way far enough that he could slip under the table again, tucking Arthur's cock back in and quickly lacing up his trousers. Arthur tried not to squirm too much. "Thank you, Father, I think I will do that. Merlin?"

"Yes?" Merlin did that thing with his mouth where he was trying desperately not to laugh, and Arthur glared at him.

"I'll need you to stoke the fire and turn down the bed."

"Of course."

"Sweet dreams, Arthur," Morgana said sweetly.

Gwen stared fixedly at the jug in her hand, her face managing, despite her darker skin tone, to be redder than the wine she was serving.

Arthur walked so quickly that Merlin had to jog to keep up with him, only stopping once they were inside his chambers. Merlin only got so far as "Ar—" before Arthur was slamming him against the door, kissing him, tasting himself on Merlin's tongue.

"You're going to pay for that," he informed him.

Merlin brushed their lips together and grinned. "I was planning on it."


	9. The Sins of the Father Timestamp

The bards sing of many things.

They tell of fair maidens and handsome knights, of courtly love and ferocious battles. They sing of forbidden love, of secret meetings and lovers parted, of witches and dragons and enchantments to be broken. They tell you that you must fight battles for your love. They tell you that lovers can betray you. They tell you that love is the greatest thing you could ever feel.

They never sing about this.

They never sing of how you will have to stand there, silent, as you watch your lover's heart break. They never tell of how you must lie, and lie, and lie again, breaking your own heart for their sake. No bard will write the tale of how you told him that Morgause lied, all witches lie, that Uther is the good man he always believed him to be. They will never say how you had to betray your very being, deny yourself and everyone like you, so that the man you loved could know peace, because he was blinded by rage and shock and you saw no other way. You knew he would regret murdering his father no matter what Uther's past deeds had been and you would not stand by and let him condemn himself.

So you condemned yourself instead.

You are a liar, a hypocrite, a traitor to your people.

You spare a moment to let Gaius comfort you. You let yourself be a child for a few moments, clinging to the man who has become your parent, searching for guidance.

But then you pick yourself up, wipe away your tears, and go up to your lover's bedroom. You hold him, and kiss him, and comfort him in your turn, and you bury the hurt deep inside where you almost can't feel it. And you never let him know what you sacrificed for his peace of mind.

Because you love him.

And as any bard can tell you, love is the most powerful thing on earth.


	10. Lady of the Lake Timestamp

The one piece of relationship advice Hunith ever gave her son was, "I have a few things I keep from you, just as there are a few things you'll keep from me. In every relationship there are a few secrets. Even among lovers. No matter how loving and no matter how close, everyone hides something from their partner."

At the time Merlin had been ten, and wanting to know about his father, so he'd been a little too busy being angry to really think about his mother's words. But when he met Freya, he remembered.

Part of it was bad timing, he supposed. He and Arthur weren't in the best place at the moment. In Arthur's defense, it wasn't entirely his fault. After Merlin had been forced to lie about Morgause to stop Arthur from killing his own father, Merlin had felt… actually, he didn't have words for how he felt. He was sick of hiding his true abilities from Arthur. He was tired of lying and sneaking around behind Arthur's back. He doubted, now, if Arthur even truly cared for him. How could he, when he didn't know who Merlin truly was?

These thoughts plagued him night and day, turning dreams into nightmares and distracting him at his work. He drew into himself, which in turn drew him away from Arthur, which in turn made Arthur irritated. The prince knew something was wrong with Merlin, but he didn't know what it was and Merlin wouldn't tell him, and it frustrated him.

They had a lot of petty arguments.

And then—then Merlin met Freya.

This, he thought, was what love was supposed to be like. Sweet and gentle, so natural that it was like breathing, and distracting in a joyful, dizzying sort of way. No pain or anger, just happiness. He'd never had a "first love" so to speak. The only friend he had in Ealdor was Will and he wouldn't kiss Will if you offered him all the wealth in Camelot. Arthur was—Arthur was a lot of things, good and bad, and half the time he made Merlin so confused inside that he didn't even know which way was up.

Freya was kind, and sweet, and Merlin could make her laugh. What was more, he could be himself around her. He didn't have to lie or hide, or feel ashamed.

He wanted to run away with her. He truly did. Camelot suddenly felt oppressing. Even Arthur felt oppressing. He just wanted to leave it all, to find a place with just the two of them. He wanted to escape his destiny.

But then Freya died, and he realized what a fool he was.

Love like that, it didn't last. It died out or grew until it was as complicated and painful as what he felt for Arthur. And as he watched the burning boat make its way to the center of the lake he knew, he couldn't run. He couldn't hide. Not from destiny and not from himself.

It startled him how easily he was able to let go of Freya. He ached for her, for what she had gone through and the fate she did not deserve, and he railed against the deities for letting such a sweet creature die. But with every step he took toward Camelot, the more Freya's face seemed to fade away, replaced by another, more familiar one.

And when Arthur apologized, taking his face in his hands and kissing him, Merlin knew that nothing, nothing in the world felt as good as this. And maybe it was painful and maybe half the time he was confused and angry and lost but if that was the price he had to pay for having this, then he'd pay it every time.

Arthur might have been a prat, but he was Merlin's prat, and Merlin silently thanked Freya for reminding him of that.


	11. Sweet Dreams Timestamp

Merlin was having a lovely weekend. Arthur had woken up first, as usual, and decided that instead of whacking Merlin over the head with a pillow or shoving him out of bed that much more persuasive methods were in order. Re: Blowjob.

Then they decided that really, they were about to deal with five visiting kings and be bored out of their minds (Merlin) and having to watch every little thing they said or did (Arthur), so they deserved a little treat. Re: Breakfast in bed.

Merlin had to stay by Arthur's side while the kings arrived and were greeted (which he didn't see Uther's manservant doing but he wasn't about to complain) but once Arthur led the kings inside Merlin had a good few hours to himself. Re: Using magic to do the chores.

After that there had been a lovely chat with Gwen about the risks of pranking Lady Vivian, who even had Arthur beat for sheer arrogance, and an equally entertaining talk with Arthur, who had, ever since the tournament and his stay at Gwen's house, become her self-appointed protector in all things involving class differences and chivalry.

Merlin suspected this had something to do with Gwen's threats to Arthur's anatomy should he break Merlin's heart.

Anyway it was all going wonderfully, and Merlin didn't even mind getting to bed much later than Arthur (all the servants were working double time for the visitors). He got up early to take care of his temporary extra duties, still in high spirits, and returned to the room to find Arthur already up and gazing out the window.

"Good morning!"

"Never have you been more right, Merlin." Arthur's grin was oddly dreamy. "It is the sunniest, the most fragrant, the most beautiful morning I've ever seen in my life."

Hmm. Okay. Odd. Even odder was the fact that Arthur was actually wearing clothing.

"You're dressed."

"I'm the future King of Camelot, I do have some skills, you know."

Merlin snorted. "Indeed, you are very skilled at getting people to do things for you." Like, you know, hand jobs in the tub and running errands and saddling horses.

"That is your job. But today my job is to woo."

And that was when Merlin's lovely weekend came to a crashing halt.

"To what?"

"To woo. I wish to make a proclamation of love."

Merlin blinked. All right, so proclamations of love were usually made to the one that you loved, but Merlin had a feeling they were already past that stage in their relationship. "I don't need any wooing."

"Not you," Arthur replied.

Merlin wracked his brain. Wooing was usually directed at the object of one's affections, yes, but sometimes the term was used when declaring one's love for a person in a public manner—in other words, to declare one's intentions to the court.

Oh no.

"I thought you wanted to keep things secret?" Merlin reminded him.

"Why would I want to do that?" Arthur replied.

Merlin closed his eyes, counted to ten, and remembered to breathe. "Well, what will you tell your father?" Hey, Dad, I'm fucking my manservant and also I gave him flowers once but I don't like to mention it because I'm an emotionally stunted clot pole?

"What does my father matter?" Arthur said.

"Well, that's one way of approaching things." Merlin calculated the chances of Uther ordering him beheaded versus merely exiling him.

"So, I need your help in expressing my feelings," Arthur went on.

No way, he'd never have guessed. "Of course."

An awkward pause descended.

"So," Arthur said. "Any ideas on how to win a lady?"

That was when Merlin's jaw hit the floor.

* * *

"I'm going to kill him," Gwen fumed.

"No, no, please don't," Merlin protested, getting between her and the door. "I'm sure there's an explanation for it."

Both Gwen and Gaius stared at him, waiting for said explanation.

Merlin swallowed. He couldn't explain it, but something wasn't right. If Arthur didn't care for him anymore, if he'd really fallen head over heels for Vivian, then surely he would have kicked Merlin out of bed or said something or even acknowledged they were in a relationship in the first place? Arthur had acted as though he and Merlin had never even been together. And then there was the strange, dreamy look on his face and his sudden urge to be romantic and to "woo". Previous to this morning, Merlin wouldn't even have been sure that Arthur knew what the word _woo_ meant.

Gwen was not moved by these explanations. "I'll only break his nose," she protested, struggling to get past Merlin.

"I happen to like his nose!" Merlin replied. "And the rest of his face!"

"What I don't understand is how it happened so suddenly," Gaius mused. "You told me that only yesterday he dismissed her as rude."

"Well don't look at me," Merlin replied. "I didn't cause him to fall in love."

Gwen paused in her crusade to break Arthur's limbs. "You kind of did, actually."

"Yes, with _me_, not with _her_!" Merlin waved his arms, trying to get his point across.

"If Arthur professes his love for Vivian, Olaf will kill him," Gaius pointed out. "Surely Arthur knows that?"

Merlin sighed and nodded. "See, he said it was his job to woo her by the end of the day."

"And it's your job to stop him."

* * *

Suffice to say, Merlin did not stop him. Now, Arthur was in a fight to the death with King Olaf. And he was losing.

The weekend had definitely taken a turn for the worst. Which was saying something, because a few hours ago when Vivian and Arthur were furiously kissing on Vivian's bed and his magic hadn't worked, Merlin was pretty sure it was the worst moment of his life. First, because Arthur was his and Vivian could keep her sticky hands off him. Second, because re: death match.

"This can't go on," Gaius whispered to Merlin as he finished bandaging up Arthur's broken rib. "The fight's not fair. Arthur's head is in the clouds."

"I don't know what to do," Merlin replied.

Gaius fixed him with the Eyebrow. "Then find someone who does."

* * *

The Great Dragon, Merlin realized, had a twisted sense of humor. Upon being told the predicament, the giant lizard just started laughing. When he finally calmed down enough to speak, all he said was, "This is magic indeed."

Yeah, no kidding. "Everything I have tried has failed."

The Great Dragon sighed in exasperation. "From what you tell me, the spell has captured his heart."

Merlin nodded. "And his heart is controlling his brain."

"There is no magic that can break this enchantment."

Merlin's heart sank. "There must be."

"It has too great a hold."

"I cannot let Arthur die!"

"Patience, young warlock," the Great Dragon advised. "The solution lies in a force greater than you or I can understand, a force that has puzzled many minds…"

"Please, I have very little time."

The bastard kept stalling. "…a force…"

"Just tell me!"

The Great Dragon laughed again. "Why, it is the greatest force of all! Love!"

"Love?" Was he in a fairytale now?

"You must find the person Arthur truly loves."

"And then what?"

"One kiss from her… or him," the Great Dragon smirked at Merlin. "Will break the enchantment, and he will desire Vivian no more."

* * *

Merlin burst into the tent where Arthur was leaning against the tent pole, trying to stand. "Ah, Merlin. Finally going to wish me good luck?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "No, you prat."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Well, honestly, that's rather rude."

Merlin took a deep breath. "Then let me make amends."

He surged forward before he could lose his courage, praying that he was right, that Arthur really did love him. At first he got no response. Arthur seemed surprised but he was only standing there, not kissing back. Merlin felt a lump grow in his throat and he started to pull away, but then he felt Arthur's lashes brush against him as Arthur closed his eyes, and—oh thank God—Arthur started kissing him back.

He looped his arms around Arthur's neck, not even minding being crushed against Arthur's armor because Arthur was kissing him back, he was _kissing him back_, and he never, ever wanted the moment to end.

They pulled apart just enough to be able to breathe, and Merlin smiled at the happy, dumbfounded look on Arthur's face. Suddenly Arthur cringed, doubling over, and he had to lean against Merlin to stay upright. "What am I doing?"

"You're in a fight," Merlin whispered. He cupped Arthur's face in his hands. "To the death. And you're losing."

"But—"

"There's no time to explain." Hopefully there would be time later. "Just…" Merlin swallowed. "Live for me, Arthur. That's all I ask right now."

Not only did Arthur live, but he showed yet another glimpse of the great king he would become, showing mercy and wisdom. But the best part was afterward, when Arthur strode out of the arena and into his tent, and marched right up to Merlin and kissed him again.

* * *

The goodbyes went fairly well, all things considered, although Lady Vivian was still under the enchantment. Merlin just hoped she had a secret boyfriend back home or something to cure her of it.

"My heart will remain," Vivian called as her father dragged her away. "And I hope to join it soon."

"Not too soon," Arthur said out of the corner of his mouth, waving uncomfortably.

"No," Merlin agreed. "Might conflict with your one true love."

Arthur looked at him. "What?"

"You heard me. I have proof."

Arthur sighed. "There'll be no living with you from now on, will there?"

Merlin grinned. "Nope."

In the end, it wasn't too bad of a weekend after all.

* * *

**The dialogue in the show was already perfect, so I felt no need to really change it.**


	12. The Last Dragonlord Timestamp

**I should be working on my global studies essay but I frankly couldn't give a damn at the moment.**

* * *

"No!" Merlin shouted. The Great Dragon paid him no heed, sweeping Arthur away with his gigantic tail. Arthur hit the ground, out cold. Merlin ran over to him, wanting to protect Arthur and stop the dragon, but unsure how.

And then he felt it.

_You are the last Dragonlord now. You alone carry the ancient gift. Deep within yourself, you must find the voice that you and Kilgharrah share, for your soul and his are brothers. When you speak to him as kin, he must obey your will._

Merlin stood up and took a deep breath, feeling the words well up inside of him like a great wave.

_"Dracan! Nán dyd ǽlc áciere miss! Eftsíðas eom ála cræt! Géate' stǽr ábære gárrǽs! Géate cyre. Mé tácen átende diegollice. Car grise áþes."_

The Great Dragon settled down, bowing his neck and inclining his head to Merlin, showing his respect. "I am the last of my kind, Merlin. Whatever wrongs I have done, do not make me responsible for the death of my noble breed."

Merlin thrust Arthur's spear at him warningly, and the dragon winced. "Go! Leave!" Merlin shouted. "If you ever attack Camelot again, I will kill you!"

The Great Dragon bowed, and Merlin dropped the spear. "I have shown you mercy. Now you must do the same to others."

"Young warlock, what you have shown is what you will be. I will not forget your clemency. I am sure our paths will cross again."

With that, the last, great dragon took wing and flew off.

"What was that?"

Merlin whirled around to see Arthur propped up on his elbows, staring at him. "Did you—did you just speak to him? In dragon tongue?"

"I—" Merlin didn't have words.

Arthur contemplated him for a moment. "You told me you never knew your father."

Merlin nodded.

"Balinor?"

Merlin nodded again. "I didn't—Arthur, I promise, I didn't know. Gaius told me right before we set out and I…" He felt his eyes begin to itch and he looked away. "I had to meet him."

"So you're a Dragonlord."

"The last one."

Arthur nodded, then slowly got to his feet. Whether it was from his injuries or just to stall, Merlin couldn't be sure. Finally he strode over, taking Merlin's chin in his hand and raising it, forcing Merlin to look into his eyes.

"I guess we'll just have to tell my father that I slew the dragon then," Arthur teased, his voice soft.

Merlin blinked. "What?"

"Come off it, Merlin, it's not like I'm going to kill you for this."

"Your father would," Merlin refuted. "He thinks this is too close to magic."

"Well it's not to me," Arthur argued. "And there's not much you can do with it anyway. It's just talking to them, isn't it?"

It was more than that, but Merlin didn't dare push his luck. "Basically."

"Then it's settled." Arthur pecked him on the lips. "I have slain the fearsome dragon, and you ran and hid like a girl."

"I—what?" Merlin spluttered. "Arthur!"

Arthur laughed and took off running, and Merlin had to chase him halfway back to Camelot.


	13. On the Matter of Beards

Arthur frowned at the paper he was holding. "How do you politely say that someone's a narcissistic egotistical emotionally stunted moron?"

"Tell them they're just like Prince Arthur," Merlin replied, lounging on the bed.

Arthur glared at him. "Don't you have something to do?"

"Yes. I'm keeping the bed warm."

"And yet you refuse to be called a mistress," Arthur muttered, turning back to his paper.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

There was a knock at the door and Merlin scrambled off the bed so quickly he got his foot twisted in the sheets, sending him tumbling off. "Ouch."

"I can hear you panicking in there, Merlin," Gwen called, her voice muffled through the thick oak door. "It's only me."

"Guinevere, come in," Arthur called, smothering his grin as Merlin tried to untangle himself from the sheets.

Gwen stepped in, biting her lip. "My lord."

Arthur stood. "Is something wrong?"

Gwen looked torn between running away and throwing herself at his feet. "I want to start out by apologizing, because I didn't mean it—that is, I did, but I wasn't thinking—only Morgana was suspicious and I knew you wouldn't want her finding out and, well, it was simply impossible to change her mind—"

"Spit it out, Gwen," Merlin called from the floor.

"Morgana," Gwen said, fiddling with her dress, "Has gotten it into her head that you and I are in love."

Arthur then learned it was possible to choke on your own spit. "She—what?"

"Well, you know how I come up here to speak with Merlin at odd hours, because he sleeps with you," Gwen explained. "And I would dare say that we're friends—except we can't be, I know that, but I mean if you weren't a prince or if I were a—"

"I think we get it, Gwen," Arthur interrupted.

"Yes. And you stayed at my house for the tournament," Gwen went on.

Morgana and Uther had eventually figured out the truth about the tournament, especially after "Sir William" was seen lugging his vegetables to the market on Saturday.

"And she's come to the conclusion that we are in love."

"Well it's not an unreasonable assumption to make, given the circumstances," Arthur admitted.

Merlin finally won his battle against the bedsheets and stood up, a bit red in the face. "And you couldn't change her mind?"

"No! Believe me, I tried!"

Arthur folded his arms, thinking. On the surface this was an issue, seeing as he wasn't in love with Gwen, had no intentions of being in love with Gwen, and did not appreciate Morgana inserting her nose into his business. But on the other hand…

Gwen and Merlin, meanwhile, had descended into bickering.

"It's not like I want him anyway!" Gwen was saying.

"I'm not saying that you do, I'm just saying that it would be nice if people stopped throwing women at my lover for a change!" Merlin replied.

"Honestly, Merlin, I don't see any reason to be jealous about it."

"I'm not jealous!" Merlin protested, his ears going bright red. "Who said I was jealous?"

"Your ears," Gwen replied drily.

Yes, Arthur decided. Yes, it just might work.

"This is good," he said.

Both Gwen and Merlin turned to him. "Excuse me?" Merlin said.

"This. Is. Good." Arthur said.

Gwen looked like someone had told her to walk over hot coals. Merlin gaped like a fish.

Arthur sighed. Servants, understanding nothing of politics. "Look, Morgana thinks Gwen and I are in love, right? That means she'll be focusing on _our_ relationship instead of my relationship with Merlin."

"I fail to see the upside to this," Merlin said.

"No, no, it just might work." Gwen turned to Merlin. "Uther wouldn't approve of my relationship with Arthur, of course, but a serving girl is better than you."

"And how is that, exactly?" Merlin spluttered.

"One, you're a servant. Two, you're a boy. Three, you're a…" Arthur mouthed _Dragonlord_. "That's a bit more than I think my father could handle."

"All lords have tumbles with serving girls," Gwen went on. "I'm lucky no one's tried to tumble me yet."

"That's because Arthur threatened to use a real sword on them in training instead of a blunt one," Merlin said.

"Oh." Gwen turned to Arthur. "Thank you."

Arthur waved it away. "It was no trouble."

Merlin grumbled something unintelligible.

"It's perfect, really," Arthur went on. "It's a distraction technique, Merlin. This will keep suspicion off of us."

Merlin seemed to mull it over. "I suppose it's not too bad."

"As long as Lancelot doesn't find out," Gwen added.

"He's miles away, how on earth will he find out?"

"I'm just saying!"

"All right!" Arthur held up his hands before Merlin and Gwen could snipe at each other some more. "So it's all settled then?"

Gwen and Merlin nodded.

"Wonderful. Now Gwen, I may be in fake love with you, but I'd appreciate it if you could leave now so I can help Merlin break the bed."

Gwen blushed, stammered, and hurried out.

The moment the door shut Arthur advanced on Merlin until he had backed him into the bed. Merlin squeaked.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded. "Yes. I mean, I'm not entirely happy about it but it makes sense."

Arthur nosed at the skin right behind Merlin's ear, enjoying the shiver Merlin gave. "As if I'd have anyone else when I've got you."

He pulled back just in time to see Merlin's blinding smile.


	14. Dragon Speak

It started out as an accident. Arthur had asked Merlin, quite innocently, to speak some dragon tongue. He'd just wanted to understand it a bit, that was all.

But then he'd heard the words rolling off Merlin's tongue, felt the weight of them wash over him, the deepness and richness that Merlin's voice had taken on. This was not the voice of one who asks. This was the voice of one who commands.

And he was instantly, painfully hard.

He'd tried to hide it, but Merlin was sharp-eyed and noticed more than most people gave him credit for, especially where Arthur was involved. The moment he saw the glitter in Merlin's eyes, Arthur knew he was in trouble.

Now Merlin did things like bend over at the dinner table, his mouth a tad too close to Arthur's ear, and murmur "_Géate cyre,_" making Arthur's spoon clatter to the tabletop.

Now he panted c_ar grise áþes _into Arthur's mouth as they kissed, causing Arthur's knees to buckle.

Now he gasped _m__é tácen átende diegollice_ into Arthur's earlobe, his shoulder, his neck as Arthur thrust into him, making Arthur stutter and spill violently.

Sometimes Arthur asked for a translation, and sometimes he didn't. He suspected that a lot of the time Merlin just said the first thing that came into his head, even if it had nothing to do with the situation. Because it wasn't the meaning of the words that drove Arthur crazy. It was the sound of them, and the way Merlin got when he spoke them.

It was, in fact, Merlin himself.

(And besides, it was much less embarrassing than some of the other kinks he heard about.)

(Shut up.)


	15. Proposal

**I started to write the wedding and then I realized—what comes before the wedding? The proposal, of course! I got the idea from a gif set created by someone with much more computer talent than myself.**

* * *

Arthur examined his reflection in the silver plate. It was cloudy and a bit warped, but it was the next best thing to a mirror that he had on hand. He fixed his hair, trying to get it to lie in exactly the way he wanted. He needed to look his best—dashing and regal and everything a prince should be. He wanted to impress.

Which was ironic, considering the person he was trying to impress was pretty much incapable of being impressed by anything or anyone.

"What are you doing?"

Arthur dropped the plate with a clatter and spun around. Merlin was striding toward him, grinning in that way that made his eyes crinkle up into slits.

"Um, I—"

Merlin took in the scene. Arthur had (with help from the ever-patient Gwen) set up a picnic under a tree in a grassy meadow a short ride from Camelot, in an area that Arthur knew Merlin frequented when picking herbs for Gaius. Gaius had then sent Merlin to gather said herbs, putting Arthur right in his path. The blanket was covered in various niceties from the kitchen: roast chicken, sweetmeats, pies, and various fruits.

"What's all this?" Merlin asked, looking back up into Arthur's face.

"Maybe if you came over here you'd find out," Arthur replied.

Merlin crossed the line of small stones that led across the stream and stopped about a foot away from Arthur. "You're being romantic," he said suspiciously. "You're never romantic."

"I am romantic!" Arthur protested.

Merlin raised his eyebrows, a trait he'd undoubtedly picked up from Gaius. "Sexual favors don't count."

Arthur huffed and took a step forward, seizing Merlin's wrist and pulling him so that their bodies were flush together. "Well, I'm being romantic now."

He indulged himself and kissed Merlin, slow and sweet. When he pulled away Merlin appeared a bit dazed, and Arthur gave himself a mental pat on the back. He gestured at the feast. "Shall we?"

The next hours were spent rolling around on the blanket, eating and joking and laughing and inevitably Arthur would yank Merlin on top of him to kiss him, tasting strawberries and apples on his tongue. They wrestled playfully, fed each other tidbits because today was a day for silly indulgences, and play fought with sticks they found. When they were too tired and too full to move anymore, they lay down and Merlin told Arthur some of the stories he'd read in Gaius's books—tales of the Old Religion, of mysterious castles, cursed maidens, and immortal knights. He spun stories about doomed lovers, holy quests and creatures both good and evil. They cloud-gazed, arguing about whether that one cloud looked like a dog or a horse, and at some point they fell asleep on top of each other, the warm sun and soft breeze lulling them into slumber.

When Arthur awoke, it was to the feel of Merlin running gentle fingers through his hair. His head was on Merlin's chest, one arm slung over Merlin's hips, and Merlin had propped himself up on an elbow in order to gaze down at him. Arthur's limbs still felt pleasantly heavy from the meal and the exercise, the sun was warm and the air was sweet, Merlin's heartbeat was under his ear and Merlin's fingers were in his hair, and they were in the golden days of summer. Never, he thought, had he been so happy.

"I wish it could be like this forever."

"Hmm?" Arthur hummed, glancing up at Merlin.

Merlin was gazing down at Arthur fondly, but there was a strange, faraway look in his eyes. "It's just you and me, being ourselves. Together. And I wish… I want it to be like this, always."

Arthur couldn't have gotten a better opening if he tried. "It can be."

"What?" Merlin's finger stilled in his hair, puzzled.

Arthur sat up and dug in the picnic basket for the small velvet bag that Gwen had hidden in there. It was one of the last things her father had ever made, dying before he could sell it. Gwen had given it to Arthur on his last birthday, "For when the time is right."

He couldn't think the time could be more right than this.

Clearing his throat, Arthur knelt on one knee and extracted the ring from its pouch, holding it out to Merlin.

It was a wedding ring, but not a traditional wedding ring. It wasn't a silver band with jewels, like for a lady, or a simple gold band, like for a lord, or even a thick ring with runes and symbols carved on it.

No. Merlin was a Dragonlord, so he got a dragon ring.

Merlin didn't say anything, sucking in a breath, eyes going wide. He held out a shaky hand, fingers trembling as he let Arthur slide it on. It looped around his finger, the tiny ruby eyes glittering, its tiny scales etched into the dark silver. It was as long as Merlin's finger, the tail curling around his knuckle and the head baring its teeth at his fingernail. It looked imposing but was as light as anything, and Gwen had remarked with wet eyes that she thought it was her father's best work.

Arthur couldn't deny that part of the reason he wanted this ring for Merlin was that it couldn't look like a wedding ring. Merlin couldn't look married. And he knew from the slight flicker in Merlin's eyes that Merlin knew it as well. But then the ring was on all the way and Merlin blushed as red as the strawberries they'd eaten earlier, curling and uncurling his finger experimentally.

"Will you have me?" Arthur asked. "Always?"

Merlin launched himself at Arthur, scattering kisses like raindrops over every inch of his face. "Yes," he whispered, voice cracking. "Yes, yes, yes."


	16. Tears of Uther Pendragon Timestamp

One man's tragedy is another man's opportunity.

When Morgana was taken by Morgause, it was a tragedy. But for Arthur and Merlin, it was also an opportunity.

Uther had Arthur and all the other knights scouring the kingdom searching for Morgana. The king was distracted by grief and rage, determined to bring Morgana back no matter how long it took or what the cost would be.

The timing couldn't be better.

Arthur informed his father that he would be searching where Camelot's lands bordered Cenred's. Uther simply waved his hand and nodded, not even glancing in his son's direction. Arthur had rode out the next day, Merlin at his side.

In a funny coincidence, Gwen fell ill and had to take to her home on the same day.

In another interesting coincidence, Gaius announced that he would take a few days' leave to settle an unexpected affair with some relatives regarding an issue of land ownership.

The greatest coincidence of all was that the four of them ended up in Ealdor on the same day, around suppertime. Hunith was at the head of the crowd of villagers, barely waiting for Merlin to get off his horse before sweeping him into her arms and cradling him against her. Merlin returned her hug, his arms wrapping all the way around her, revealing how tall he'd become. Hunith wasted no time in hugging Arthur as well, taking his face in her hands and smiling as if he were her own flesh and blood. It made warmth bloom in Arthur's chest, and he hugged her tightly. Lancelot was there, winking at Merlin and saying didn't I _tell_ you he liked you back? Gwen forgot herself and took a flying leap, and it was fortunate Lancelot had the reflexes to catch her and spin her around or somebody would have bruised something.

Everything had been set up that afternoon so that it would be ready when they arrived. They didn't have much time, but it they counted themselves lucky that they had any time at all. The ceremony was held in the village square, candles piled up everywhere and giving people's faces a golden glow.

Gwen tried, and failed, to convince Merlin to carry flowers.

Gaius was used in place of an appointed official, but since he was a physician and basically Uther's right hand man anyway, they figured it worked out all right.

Hunith cried when they spoke their vows.

Merlin already knew what his ring looked like, having spent the entire week after Arthur proposed doing nothing but staring at it with a small smile on his face, but Arthur had no idea what his ring was going to look like. It ended up being a thick silver band with two thin gold bands on either side, with ancient runes weaving around it like vines.

"It means, my own heart's root," Merlin explained. He glanced up at Arthur's face and then down again, blushing. "It means—it means you are the source of all my love, and all my love runs back to you."

Normally Arthur would have teased Merlin for getting sappy and girlish, but today was a day for such things. And, secretly, he loved it.

When they kissed, Gwen and a few village boys whistled. Arthur did not, however, dip Merlin, which meant Lancelot owed Gaius a gold mark.

After the vows there was feasting and dancing, with Arthur trying and failing to teach Merlin how to dance in the proper manner of the court, and Hunith putting all of them to shame with her skill at the jig.

They laughed and talked and danced and sang until the fires died and people were slumped in their seats, snoring. And the two grooms might have snuck off at some point to make love in the meadow behind Hunith's house, kissing sloppily because they were grinning so wide and fumbling like virgins and saying the word _husband _an absurd amount of times because they wanted to use it while they still could.

At first light they set off again. Hunith kissed everyone's cheek and made them promise to visit more than once every two years. Gwen and Lancelot made out until Arthur and Merlin literally pulled them apart and shoved Gwen onto her horse, and Gaius arched his eyebrow so much Merlin thought he was going to develop a twitch.

They arrived at Camelot the next day and slipped off to their respective rooms with no one the wiser.

But over the next few weeks Merlin and Arthur would link hands when no one else was around, seeing and feeling the rings click together. They'd glance at each other and end up smiling like idiots and have to look away, the tips of Merlin's ears turning pink. And if anyone wondered what the Crown Prince and his manservant found to smile about during such distressing times, well, they were smart enough to keep their thoughts to themselves.

But Arthur knew. And Merlin knew.

And for them, at that time, it was enough.


	17. Not Natural

**This is such crack I don't even know where it came from I am so, so sorry.**

* * *

Merlin fiddled with the bottles on the table. "Gaius?"

"Yes, Merlin?"

He swallowed, unsure of how to put this without severely embarrassing both of them. "Is there—I mean, is it normal if—" He sighed. "I think there's something wrong with either Arthur or me. Or maybe both of us. Probably him, though, because he started it this morning…"

Gaius raised his eyebrow. "And what, exactly, do you think is wrong with one or the both of you?"

Merlin cleared his throat. "Right. Good question. Well, um, we've been having a lot—and I mean _a lot_—and it's not that it's not enjoyable, 'cause it is, but we went three times already today and I'm starting to be concerned that one of us got doused with something that's kicking our, you know, into overdrive."

Gaius carefully set down the herbs he was mixing. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Merlin? Because if so I have to tell you—"

The door burst open and Arthur strode in. "Gaius. We need to talk. I think there's something wrong with Merlin. Or, all right, maybe it's me. It could be both of us."

Merlin cleared his throat and waggled his fingers at Arthur, who gaped. "What are you doing here?"

"Same reason you're here," Merlin replied.

"So you've noticed it too?"

"It's a little hard not to notice. Actually I'd be disappointed in myself if I didn't notice."

"So I'm right, it's not normal."

"Three rounds of sex before lunch is not normal."

"That was _your_ fault!"

"What? _You_ started it! With your, your, your stupid romantic let's-stay-in-bed seduction techniques!"

"I wasn't the one with the lazy good morning smile and licking his _fucking lips_ all the time!"

"I _smiled_ at you, how the hell does that make sex my fault?"

"Boys!" Gaius barked.

Arthur and Merlin settled down and turned to look at him, both wearing sheepish looks. Gaius sighed the sigh of the long suffering (it was a sigh that Sir Leon often suppressed). "You are both perfectly healthy men in the prime of their lives with a willing… partner." Gaius carefully left out the word 'sexual'. "And I dare say you're in love, unless I completely misunderstood the situation."

Merlin muttered something that the other two couldn't hear, but Arthur figured it was something sassy so he smacked him in the shoulder anyway.

"Believe me, if there was anything wrong with either of you, you would know. Now please remove yourselves from my rooms so that I can wipe this conversation from my memory."

"Right," Merlin said, nodding. "Got it."

Arthur just stared at Gaius with his mouth partway open as Merlin dragged him out the door.

"So, it's normal?" Arthur asked. "We're not cursed or anything?"

"Maybe it's because we didn't get a honeymoon?" Merlin offered.

Arthur considered the suggestion, then glanced out the window. "I don't have anything to do for a couple hours."

"I think mucking out the stables can wait."

They looked at each other for a beat, then started booking it for the bedroom.


	18. The Changeling Timestamp

"I'm going to be a bigamist," Arthur moaned, burying his face in a pillow.

"Shut up and stop whining," Merlin replied. "You're not going to be a bigamist."

"Yes, I am," Arthur countered dramatically. "I'm going to have to marry someone I don't even love, and then I'm going to have to figure out how to keep her from finding out about us, and if someone _does_ find out her father will start a war, or somebody else will because everyone around here wants to start a war, and oh yes let's not forget the whole breaking sacred law by marrying more than one person thing!"

"And you tell me I'm the girl in this relationship," Merlin said, organizing the papers on Arthur's desk. "Wait a minute, I think I wrote more than half of these." He waved a paper at Arthur. "When you become king I expect full compensation."

"How's Royal Mistress sound, because that's what you'll be when I marry this girl."

Merlin rolled his eyes so hard he thought he'd strain something. "You are not going to be a bigamist."

Arthur just groaned into his pillow.

* * *

"I brought you your ceremonial sword."

"Is that for me to fall on?"

"Hopefully not," Merlin replied. He'd been so caught up with taking care of the Sidhe that he hadn't really thought about the whole marriage thing, but now it hit him full force. Arthur was being forced to marry Elena. They couldn't share a chamber anymore after this. They'd have to go from being subtle to outright hiding. Arthur would have to wear a new wedding ring, might not be able to wear the one that Merlin had given him.

But he shoved such thoughts aside. Arthur was panicking, and Merlin had to help him through it like he always did.

"You don't understand, Merlin," Arthur sighed. "You have no idea what it's like to have a destiny you can't escape."

"Destinies are troublesome things," Merlin agreed. Arthur took the sword from him and sheathed it. Merlin went on. "You feel trapped, like your whole life is being planned out for you and you've got no control over anything, and sometimes you don't even know if what destiny decided is really the best thing at all."

Arthur looked up at him. "How come you're so knowledgable?"

"Hmm?" Merlin hummed, adjusting the straps on Arthur's cape. "Oh, I read a book."

"What did this book tell you?" Arthur asked, turning. He placed his arms at Merlin's elbows and drew their bodies together. Merlin placed his hands on Arthur's chest, trying to soothe him. "Should I marry her?"

It wasn't a question of wanting, Merlin knew that. It was a question of politics, of ethics, of how much they could risk or sacrifice for their personal happiness.

"That's not really my place to say so," he said, trying to dodge the question.

"First of all, you're my husband, it's your place to say whatever you want. Second of all, I asked you, so it's your job to answer."

Merlin sighed. "If you really want to know what I think…"

Arthur gently knocked their foreheads together in a _go on_ gesture. Merlin took a deep breath. "I think you're mad, I think you're all mad. People should marry for love, not convenience. And if Uther thinks an unhappy king makes for a stronger kingdom, then he's wrong. 'Cause you may be destined to rule Camelot, but you have a choice as to how you do it."

Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin, sliding his hands around so that they were pressed against Merlin's back, and closed his eyes. Merlin brushed his lips against Arthur's cheek. "Know that however you choose to do it, I will always be by your side."

Arthur nodded tightly, his eyes still closed.

One kiss for good luck, and then he was walking down the aisle.

* * *

"Do any say nay?"

Merlin wanted desperately to say nay, but he knew he couldn't. He pressed his lips together, forcing them to stay shut just in case they developed a mind of their own and blurted something out. It wouldn't be the first time. His vision was blurry and he couldn't bring himself to look directly at the altar, where Arthur stood.

"Then as we gather here today, we are all witness to this rite…"

"Wait."

Merlin blinked, his vision clearing. Everyone was staring at Arthur in varying degrees of shock.

"There's something you would like to say, Arthur?"

To the rest of the room Arthur probably looked determined and calm as could be, but Merlin could see the slight twitch of fear in his face. "Something I should've said a long time ago. Something from the heart I dare not speak. Elena, you are a wonderful woman, and a beautiful bride, but I cannot deny my feelings."

Merlin's heart couldn't seem to decide if it wanted to stop or beat at a breakneck pace.

Princess Elena gave a small smile. "You do not love me."

Arthur shook his head. "And I think, if you are honest, you do not love me either."

"No."

"Then we are both here out of duty," Arthur announced. "Can you forgive me?"

"I agree with all you have said," Elena replied. "Thank you, Arthur." She did look truly grateful.

Merlin found himself blinking desperately to keep back tears.

* * *

"I told you that you wouldn't be a bigamist."

Arthur ran his thumb over his wedding ring, the corner of his mouth tugging upward slightly. "Say whatever you like, Merlin, but I saw you standing there. You were crying."

Merlin sat bolt upright. "I was not crying!"

"It's not good to lie to your husband, Merlin."

Merlin lay back down, snuggling up against Arthur's side. He pressed his palm to Arthur's heart, and Arthur lay his hand over it, their rings clinking together.

"Exactly. You're mine."

Arthur huffed out a laugh. "Yes. And you're mine."

They fell asleep with their fingers intertwined.


	19. Bedtime Stories

Merlin is an avid reader.

He reads absolutely anything he can get his hands on. Histories, myths, epic poems—even Gaius's physician books, although he can't understand half of what's in those ones. Geoffrey, the bookkeeper, always mutters that Merlin is going to ruin whatever book he's borrowing this time, but Arthur has seen children that weren't taken care of as well as Merlin cares for those books.

Merlin's duties keep him busy during the day, between assisting Gaius and helping Arthur, so he usually reads at night as they're lying in bed. He props himself up on all of the pillows, not even leaving one for Arthur, which means Arthur has to use Merlin's lap as a pillow instead. He complains but really, he doesn't mind. Not when Merlin is carding his fingers through his hair, nails scratching gently at the nape of his neck, his body warm and solid beneath Arthur. When Merlin finds something he thinks Arthur will like, he reads it out loud. Arthur has learned more about the history of Albion from Merlin's bedtime readings than from all of his lessons as a child. Merlin's voice is low and soothing, the words tumbling off of his tongue like water going over a waterfall, cascading down before sliding deep into the pool below.

Oftentimes Arthur falls asleep like that, with Merlin's fingers in his hair and Merlin reading silently. Once a while he wakes up as Merlin's blowing out the candle and setting the book aside, slinking down the bed to curl up with Arthur, his eyelids drooping from reading so late. And every once in a while, as Arthur is drifting off to sleep, he can hear Merlin hum a song. He can never quite identify what song it is, but it's probably something Hunith sang to him as a baby. Merlin hums it softly, trailing off here and there, and Arthur lets the sound sink into his skin, into his memory, so that he will never forget it.

Sometimes, Arthur thinks these moments might be his favorite of all.


	20. The Castle of Fyrien Timestamp

Arthur sank back against the cell wall, closing his eyes. "This is all my fault."

He could sense Merlin's frown, even if he couldn't see it. "How is this your fault? Did you go and capture Elyan and then force Gwen to lead you here?"

"I'm the one who insisted on this false love affair." Arthur opened his eyes. "If they didn't think I'm in love with Gwen, they wouldn't have done anything to harm her or her brother."

"There's no use worrying about it now. The rumor's kind of taken on a life of its own."

"Her _life_ is in danger, Merlin. And it's because of me." Arthur paused. "For that matter, Morgana and Elyan's lives are in danger too."

"Hey now," Merlin came over and sat next to him, putting his head on his shoulder. "I've got a share in the blame, too. I could have put my foot down."

"I just never expected…" Arthur shrugged. "Everyone gossips. I thought it would just be enough of a distraction to keep people from finding out about us. I never thought…"

"You know what this means."

Arthur looked down at him. "What's it mean?"

"It means Morgause and Cenred will stop at nothing." Merlin stared up at him, his eyes bright. "We have to watch our every step. They might even have a spy in Camelot."

"Doesn't matter now," Arthur replied. "We'll be dead soon."

Merlin frowned. "Yes, I don't understand why we're not dead already."

Arthur held in a sigh. "Because Cenred will want to torture me first, find out what I know."

Merlin sat up, one hand clenching into a fist. "I won't—"

Arthur chuckled. Merlin's protectiveness, no matter how illogical, was incredibly endearing. He placed his hand over Merlin's fist, relaxing it. "You're cute when you're angry."

"I am not," Merlin replied. "You aren't worried about this at all?"

"No. Not in the slightest."

"Sorry, I don't understand. How," Merlin relaxed his hand even more, allowing Arthur to thread their fingers together. "How can you not be afraid of pain?"

Arthur found it a funny thing to ask, coming from Merlin, because the only time Merlin ever seemed scared was when Arthur's life was in danger. Put Merlin's own life on the line and he shrugged it off like it was nothing.

"I am afraid of pain," Arthur explained. "There's just not going to be any."

Merlin was really confused now. "Right. So, you go into some sort of trance?"

Now it was Arthur's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about? There's not going to be any because we are going to escape from this filthy cell and rescue the others."

Merlin blinked incredulously. "You've got a plan?"

"Not as such…" Arthur admitted.

* * *

For not having much of a plan things were going pretty well. And then Arthur tried to convince Merlin to take Gwen and Elyan back to Camelot while he went to rescue Morgana.

He should have known Merlin wouldn't listen. His husband was more stubborn than any mule Arthur had ever met.

"No, you can't!" Merlin argued. "It's too dangerous!"

"Sorry, Merlin, I'm not leaving without her." Morgana was like a sister to him. "When you get to the horses, ride straight for Camelot. Do not wait for me. Promise."

"But I…"

Arthur placed his hand at Merlin's cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. "Promise."

Merlin swallowed. "I promise."

Merlin happily pointed out that he had promised not to wait for Arthur when they reached the horses, which he did, indeed, do. He failed to leave out the fact that he was going to reach the horses after following Arthur and nearly getting himself crushed by a load of falling stone.

"Your fault for leaving me a loophole," Merlin said cheerfully, once they were safely riding back to Camelot.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide his smile.

* * *

Merlin must have been more tired than he let on, because he passed out the second his head hit the pillows that night. Arthur was just finishing up reading a new tax proposal (a.k.a. staring fondly at Merlin with his parted lips, smooth face and rumpled hair) when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

Gwen entered, carrying a pair of dresses. Arthur's forehead creased. "What are they?"

"Two silk dresses," Gwen said, laying them out on the table. "In case your father asks any questions."

"Ah, where'd you get them from?"

"Well…" Gwen smiled, "Let's just say they won't be missed for a day or two."

Arthur nodded. He trusted her. "How's Elyan settling in?"

Gwen's smile turned into a huge grin. "Really well. He's got the forge up and running and a place to live. He really appreciates all the help you've given him."

"Well, Camelot does need a master blacksmith."

Gwen nodded, and then paused, hesitating. Arthur tilted his head. "Was there anything else?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for bringing my brother back. It means more to me than I can say."

Arthur smiled. "Well it's like you said, Guinevere. It's what you do when you love someone. Whether it's a family member, a lover, or a friend." Arthur paused. "Fact is, Gwen, it's our fault you had to go through this. Merlin and I, we shouldn't have had you play the part. I should have known it would put you in danger."

"How were you supposed to know that?" Gwen demanded. "Nobility take servants as paramours all the time, Arthur, it's hardly shocking. No one could have guessed they'd be so desperate as to trust you truly cared for me."

"I do truly care, you know," Arthur said. "I trust your judgment more than almost anyone's." He grinned. "In fact I'd say I trust it more than Merlin's sometimes. He gets so determined to keep me safe he doesn't think straight."

"That's because he loves you." Gwen's eyes were soft and knowing. "Not when you first met, but within the first week I could tell. He's always loved you."

Arthur swallowed, his face hot. "Yes, well… point is, you don't have to keep up the pretense if you don't want to. In fact, I'd almost prefer you didn't. You're my only friend, and I want to keep you safe."

Gwen looked pointedly at Merlin, slumbering away, and Arthur laughed. "He's my husband, that doesn't count."

"For what it's worth, I consider you a friend as well," Gwen replied. "And that is why I see no reason not to continue. Whatever I can do to help, I will, and if that means be your fake lover, well then." She shrugged.

"And you're sure I can't change your mind about this?"

Gwen shook her head. "Someday you will be king, and you can change things. Until then, I'll help keep my two best friends safe."

"Thank you, Guinevere."

"Of course, Arthur."

After she left Arthur slid into bed, gazing down at Merlin. He trailed his fingers across Merlin's face, feeling the ridges and outlines. "Within the first week?" He whispered.

To his surprise, Merlin snorted. "As if. It took me at least a month."

Arthur gaped at him and Merlin cracked one eye open, a smile sliding across his face. "What? Thought I wouldn't wake up? You two are louder than a pack of crows."

Arthur promptly tackled him.


	21. Queen of Hearts Timestamp

Arthur sighed, relaxing further into the bed. Merlin had made it up but now they were lying on top of the covers, Merlin with a book on Joseph of Arimathea and Arthur with a letter from Vivian, who had indeed had a secret boyfriend (named Bedevire) who'd kissed her and broken the enchantment, and was now writing to apologize for her "embarrassing deportment." Lady Vivian apologizing for something? Arthur'd thought he'd never see the day.

Merlin snuggled a little closer, resting back against Arthur's chest and letting Arthur loop his arm around his chest, keeping him close. Training had gone well, and there was nothing else to look forward to until dinner with his father. In fact, if Arthur waited until Merlin reached the end of a chapter, he had a good chance of persuading him to indulge in some lazy afternoon sex…

And then Gwen banged the door open and there went the day.

* * *

"And you're sure about this?" Arthur asked, pacing.

"Yes," Gwen replied. "I think she's realized that Merlin's been sleeping in your room."

Merlin muttered some words that he certainly hadn't learned from Gaius.

"We can't let her find out," Arthur said.

"Would it really be that bad?" Gwen asked.

Arthur remembered the last time Morgana had blackmail information on him and he shuddered. "Yes."

Merlin nodded. "Definitely."

"Then there's only one thing for it," Gwen announced, drawing herself up and squaring her shoulders. "Arthur, you're going to woo me."

Arthur stopped short in his pacing. "What?"

"You heard me. You need to act lovestruck." Gwen grinned mischievously. "Just try and remember what you did when trying to win Merlin over."

"You don't want that, trust me, all he did was stare a lot and insult my intelligence."

"Won you over anyway," Arthur pointed out, smiling. Merlin smiled back dopily and Gwen made a face.

"Right, stop being all romantic and disgusting."

"You're one to talk, you and Lancelot are the worst."

"Just do what the poets aways say to do!" Gwen said. "Write me love poems, bring me flowers!"

"Oh God," Merlin muttered.

"And make sure Morgana knows about it!" Gwen ordered. With that, she swept out the door.

"She'd make a good queen," Merlin noted. "She's got the ordering people around down pat."

"That's actually not a half-bad idea," Arthur grumbled. "Make her Crown Princess and the two of us can run off together."

"Don't be an idiot," Merlin said fondly. "You wouldn't last a week as a peasant."

* * *

Gwen's face upon seeing her romantic surprise was a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "A romantic picnic? Really? Do you have no other ideas?"

"That's what I told him," Merlin replied, leading her across the stream.

"Well it's not like I needed any romantic ideas the first time around!" Arthur protested.

"You're lucky I'm easy," Merlin said. "And easily swayed by sex."

"Why does this not surprise me?" Gwen sighed.

"Right." Arthur clapped his hands together. "Merlin, off you go. Gwen, come try this chicken, it's delicious. All we have to do is wait for someone to spot us, and we're good."

Apparently, the theme of the day was Ruin Arthur's Plans, because the someone who found them was Morgana.

And Uther.

"For the record," Gwen whispered as they were angrily led back to Camelot, "That was the most awkward kiss of my life."

"Ditto. Let's not do it again."

* * *

When it was all over, they met in Arthur's chambers. "No more," Merlin declared. "Your fake relationship is over, I am not letting either roy you stick your necks out like that again."

"It turned out all right," Gwen said dubiously, "But I have to say this thing has gotten away from us."

"I agree," Arthur said. "It has to stop. I mean, aside from the fact that my father is now convinced that my feelings for you were the result of an enchantment…" He frowned. "Who was that old man anyway?"

"He saved Gwen's life, whoever he was," Merlin pointed out. "Even if it was by accident."

"Yes…" Arthur folded his arms. He remembered the way the warlock—Dragoon the Great—had looked at him. The way he stuttered when he tried to accuse Arthur of wrongdoing. The flash in his eyes…

"What will you do now?" Gwen asked.

"Hmm?" Arthur shook off his reverie. "Oh. We'll carry on as before. We'll just have to be a little more careful, that's all."

"I think…" Gwen bit her lip. "I think it would be all right, if others knew. I think they'd be welcoming."

Arthur snorted. "Sure they would."

"The people love you, Arthur," Gwen said. "More than they love Uther, I'm afraid."

Merlin nodded. "She's right."

Words always seemed to hold more weight coming from Guinevere. Arthur knew he could trust Merlin, could rely on him for anything, but he also knew that Merlin has the habit of devoting himself to people wholeheartedly. When Merlin praised him, it was easy to dismiss it because he knew Merlin would say it no matter what. But when Gwen said it, Arthur found it harder to ignore. Gwen's respect was not easily won, and he had yet to see her lie except in assisting him and Merlin.

"If the castle knows, my father will know."

"Not necessarily," Gwen pointed out. "I'm sure they'll understand the need for secrecy." Seeing him waver, she pressed on. "I'm not saying blow the trumpets. I'm just saying you don't have to be so paranoid."

"I'm all for that," Merlin agreed.

Arthur nodded. "I shall think on what you have said."

Gwen sighed and pecked him on the cheek. "See that you do." She hugged Merlin, and then left.

Merlin coughed and looked down at the ground, ears pink. "So, when you said you'd run away to be with Guinevere…"

Arthur smiled. "You want to know if I'd do the same for you."

"What? No!" Merlin protested. "I just wanted to say it's an incredibly stupid idea, that's all."

Arthur took a few deliberate steps closer. "Did Gwen tell you what we talked about while waiting for someone to find us at the picnic?"

"Um… maybe?" Merlin replied, his voice cracking a little.

"Then she'll have told you that sometimes I want that." Arthur stopped a few inches from Merlin. "Sometimes I hate it here. I hate having to hide, to pretend, when all I want to do is be myself, be with you. I want to link arms when we stroll along the battlements, I want to kiss you whenever I feel like it, I want to have you sit beside me at feasts instead of having to stand behind me." He held up his left hand. "I want to be able to tell people the real meaning of this ring."

Merlin's eyes had gotten rather wet, but that could have been because he wasn't so much as blinking. Arthur took a final step forward, his mouth hovering right in front of Merlin's. "I would run away with you. I'd do whatever it takes to keep us together."

Merlin slammed into him so hard that he nearly fell over, but his battle instincts kicked in and he merely stumbled backwards a step, letting Merlin kiss him as long as he liked.

All right, so maybe all of his other plans had come to naught, but this—this he got right.


	22. The Coming of Arthur Timestamp

**You might want to watch "The Coming of Arthur" before reading this chapter or have it fresh in your mind, because this is a series of snippets from the two-part episode.**

* * *

Uther sighed. "We've seen what happened to the last patrol that entered Cenred's land. You must go alone. I'm sorry to place such a burden upon you, but there is no one else I can trust."

"I understand, Father."

* * *

"You will be ready by sunrise, won't you Merlin?" Arthur asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots.

Merlin rolled his eyes. Uther might have been blind to the nature of his son's relationship with his manservant, but even he knew that "alone" translated to "alone except for Merlin."

"If I don't know where we're going, how do I know what to pack?" He asked, holding up a red cape bearing Camelot's crest. "Will it be hot? Will it be cold? Will it be wet? Will it be dry?"

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin," Arthur replied. "We're not going on holiday."

"Holiday?" Merlin said sarcastically. "What's a holiday? Is it anything like the honeymoon I didn't get?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, saw what Merlin was packing, and stopped him. "Not that. Nothing bearing the crest of Camelot. We're going undercover."

"This is ridiculous." Merlin dropped the cape on the floor. "Are you going to tell me where we're going or not?"

"Well, I can tell you it will be dangerous."

"Great."

"And I can tell you we will be traveling through bandit infested lands."

"Terrific. Sounds like the perfect romantic getaway. Then where?"

"I can't tell you that."

"You don't know where we're going."

"No, Merlin. I know where we're going. It's just, I can't tell you, that's all," Arthur said, exasperated.

Merlin grinned slyly and sauntered over so that he stood between Arthur's legs. "Right, 'cause if you do, you'll have to kill me, I suppose."

Arthur placed his arms on Merlin's hips. "Immediately and without hesitation."

"Great," Merlin said. "It'll be a surprise. I love surprises. Who doesn't love a good surprise?"

Arthur stood up and pecked him on the lips. "That's the spir—" He paused. "You were joking."

"Yes."

* * *

"Right, you filthy vermin. Which one of you's ready to face my champion in the arena?" Jarl called. "No volunteers? Well, I shall have to choose one of you toe rags myself, then. Let me see." His eyes alighted upon Merlin. "How about you?"

Merlin looked around, then pointed at himself. "Me?"

"Death or glory, boy. You should be honored."

Arthur clenched his hands into fists and stepped forward. Like hell he was letting Merlin go into the arena. All of the other men in the pit stepped back, including Gwaine. These strangers might not know anything about the young blonde with his strange, black-haired companion, but they knew that threatening one of them earned the vengeance of the other.

"Who is this so-called champion?" Arthur asked, gesturing. "Can he crush nothing but weaklings like this?"

"You think you could offer a better contest?" Jarl demanded.

"I guarantee it," Arthur replied.

Merlin grabbed his arm. "Arthur, no."

"Very well," Jarl declared. "But if you lose," He pointed at Merlin. "I'll feed your little friend to the crows piece by stinking piece."

Arthur growled.

Jarl chuckled and looked over at Gwaine. "Are you ready, my champion?"

Merlin groaned.

* * *

One thing that Merlin could never understand was why knights had to constantly try and one-up the other. If he had to listen to Gwaine and Arthur bicker for one more moment…

"No, you didn't. One more minute—"

"Oh, you flat—"

Merlin rounded on them. " One more minute and you both would've been dead. Neither of you won. Your plan was a half-baked disaster, and if it was not for that fire we would all be pushing up daisies."

He turned back around and kept walking. Behind his back, Arthur glared at Gwaine. Gwaine mouthed _he's your husband!__  
_

"I can hear you two making faces!"

* * *

Merlin bent over Arthur, feeling his forehead. He was sick and shivering with fever, and he was covered in sweat. Merlin pushed his damp hair back from his face, pressing a wet cloth to the pink skin. He had no time—Gwaine would be back any moment.

"_Geh'ælan,_" he whispered. "_Geh'ælan_."

Arthur showed no change.

Merlin gently stroked Arthur's cheek. "Come on, Arthur. Please. _Geh'ælan._"

Slowly, Arthur's shakes subsided and his forehead cooled. Merlin blinked rapidly, letting out a shaky sigh of relief as he kissed Arthur's forehead. Arthur was going to be all right.

* * *

Well, Arthur was going to be all right if he stopped being a stubborn ass.

"Where is he?" Arthur demanded, determined to rescue Uther.

"They're taking him to the throne room as we speak," Gwaine explained.

Arthur tried to stand. "This may be my last chance."

Merlin put a hand on his chest, stopping him. "Arthur, there's too many of them. You'll never make it."

"I won't leave my father to die here alone," Arthur insisted. He turned to the others. "Gwaine, Elyan, take Gaius and make your way to the woods beyond the castle." He looked each of them in the eye, then nodded once. "I hope we meet again."

The three of them left, each with their own sign of respect to the prince. Arthur looked over at Merlin. "Merlin, you should go with them."

Merlin held up his left hand and smiled. "Nah, I've seen the woods already."

Arthur kissed him once, softly, and then they were out the door.

* * *

"It's rat," Merlin announced. Arthur made a face. "Oh, believe me, you've eaten far worse. I mean, I've definitely served you things I would never have touched, but you wolfed them down no problem."

"Merlin, for once, leave me in peace, please," Arthur said, ignoring the offered meal.

Someday Merlin was going to talk to him about his refusal to discuss emotions. He sat down next to him and laid his hand over Arthur's. "I understand. Your father lied to you about Morgana. I don't know why. I'm sure he had his reasons, but now is not the time for that. He's still your father. He needs you. Camelot needs you."

"I've known her all my life," Arthur whispered. "How could she do this to us?"

"I can't answer that," Merlin admitted, "But you have a duty to your father, to your people. You can't give up on them now."

"You cannot defeat an immortal army."

Merlin nudged Arthur with his shoulder. "We don't know until we try."

After a moment, Arthur turned his hand over, interlocking their fingers.

* * *

Arthur had given Merlin many reasons to be proud of him. And while Merlin had doubted his sanity often, he had never regretted his decision to tie his life to Arthur's—destiny or not. But the proudest he had ever felt was when Sir Leon, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, Guinevere and Gaius all pledged their allegiance. Not to Uther, or Camelot, but to Arthur, and Arthur alone.

It was then that Merlin knew that the world was beginning to see what he saw: that Arthur was a man for the legends. The Once and Future King.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, turning.

Merlin smiled. "No, don't really fancy it," he replied.

Arthur got that expression on his face that said _if we were alone you'd be naked by now_. "You don't have a choice, Merlin."

Merlin stood up, his eyes never leaving Arthur's. "Okay."

And maybe Lancelot was right about Arthur making Merlin a knight. The words of praise certainly did him good. But Merlin didn't want to be a knight, and he never had. He already had what he needed, and he knew that Arthur valued him. And he looked forward to the day that Arthur could fulfill his promise to be the greatest king Albion had ever seen. The day, he thought, when all hiding was over.

* * *

"Guinevere."

Gwen moved to join Arthur. "Yes?"

"Stay here with Gaius. I want you to gather firewood and make bandages. There'll be casualties."

"All right."

Arthur's jaw tightened. "Guinevere…" He took her hands in his. "If I do not return… The law is tangled, and men can be easily swayed. I do not trust them to honor Merlin's right to rule. He will need you. And if neither of us return…"

"But you will return," Gwen said fondly. "I watched you last night. You gave us hope, something to believe in. I saw the king you will become." She squeezed his hands. "I'm so proud of you, Arthur."

Arthur smiled. "We've come a long way from when I stayed at your house, haven't we?"

Gwen nodded. "We have. And it's all Merlin's fault." She released his hands. "Now go. I look forward to berating you two for being courageous idiots."

* * *

"How's your father?" Merlin asked.

"I don't know." Arthur stared out into the distance. "All this. Morgana. It's hit him hard."

"Perhaps we're heading for a new time. You may need to take charge, become…" Merlin paused, then forged ahead. "Become king."

Arthur clenched his jaw, then relaxed it. "Who knows what the future will bring."

Merlin pressed his palm to Arthur's cheek, cradling it for a moment. Arthur's eyes fluttered closed and he breathed deeply, taking in the warm touch before Merlin had to draw his hand away, in case anyone turned to look.

There was the sound of neighing and both turned.

Guinevere rode in at the front, her hair bouncing, a wide, proud smile on her face. Sir Leon and Lancelot flanked her, standing up straight and tall, a shining example of knighthood. Behind them were Percival, looking both stern and completely harmless at the same time, and Gwaine, who had hair in his face and the remnants of a smirk, like he had just thought of a dirty joke. Elyan, trying to look imposing and only managing to pull off thoughtful, brought up the rear.

Merlin gestured. "Your Knights of the Round Table."

Arthur smiled.


	23. Seven for a Secret

Arthur loved Merlin, he really did, but the idiot needed to stop trying to have serious conversations right after sex. Like right now, in front of the fire, sated and warm while rain pounded on the windows, a pleasant ache in his limbs.

"We have to tell them," Merlin decided.

"Hmm? What?" Arthur had just been dozing off, his chin hooked over Merlin's shoulder and his arm slung over him. "Tell who?"

"The knights. Sir Leon and the others. They deserve to know."

"Know what?"

Merlin turned around so that they were face to face. "About us."

"Lancelot knows," Arthur pointed out.

"Lancelot doesn't count."

"How does—you know what, never mind." Arthur sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Why do we have to tell them? It's not any of their business."

"They're your knights."

"They're the knights of Camelot."

"No." Merlin shook his head. "Maybe the others, yes, but not Leon, Elyan, Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival. They're _your_ knights, Arthur. They pledged allegiance to you, and only you. The love Camelot but it's you they serve and you they follow. They obey your father's orders out of duty, but they obey you out of love. They'd go to Hell for you. Not to mention they're our friends. I think they deserve to know."

And that was how Arthur ended up standing in front of Leon, Elyan, Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival the next day, shifting his weight and trying to figure out what to say. Merlin, the traitor, had decided now was a perfectly good time to polish up Arthur's armor. Which was normally quite endearing, actually. Arthur's boots might have missed a polish now and then and maybe the floor needed sweeping, but Arthur's sword was always sharp enough to cut with a touch, and his armor never had a speck of rust. It was Merlin's way of helping to protect him, he knew, and it made tiny flutters of warmth come to life in his stomach.

Right. Now he just had to explain those warm flutters to his knights.

Arthur cleared his throat. "It has come to my attention—" He stopped. That wasn't right. "After much deliberation—" No, not that either. "I just wanted you all to know—" Oh, for fuck's sake. "Merlin and I are—"

"Married," All five knights chorused.

Arthur stared. "What?"

"You're married," Percival stated.

"Yes, but—but how did you…?"

"How did we know that you're going at it like rabbits?" Gwaine asked, waggling his eyebrows and smirking. "Oh, maybe because you're _going at it like rabbits_."

"We've known for ages," Leon said in the tone of someone who has witnessed horror and learned to live with it.

"Gwen's my sister, I think I'd have known if she was really in a relationship with you," Elyan said.

"You don't do a very good job of hiding it," Percival stated.

"I was at your wedding," Lancelot reminded him.

Arthur glared at all of them. "You mean to say we've been trying to keep this under wraps and you've known the entire time?"

All five knights nodded.

Arthur threw his hands up. "I give up."

As he stalked away, Gwaine called after him, "If you ever need bedroom tips—"

"Gwaine, I will make you run laps in full armor!"


	24. The 'You Hurt Him…' Talk

They jumped him in the armory, of all places.

At first Arthur swung his fists angrily, ready to fight to the death even if he was exhausted and had just been taken out of his armor and had no weapons, but then he saw who it was and he became too shocked to put up much of a fight.

They sat him down in a chair and gazed down at him sternly.

Arthur glared at them. "What exactly is the meaning of this?"

"It has come to our attention," Leon began.

Gwaine elbowed him. "Save the speech." He pointed at Arthur. "Arthur, you are my king and I serve you unto death, but if you hurt Merlin, your insides are going to be outside your body."

Arthur stared. "What?"

Elyan nodded. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that the others—and possibly Guinevere—had put him up to this. "We like Merlin."

"He's our favorite, actually," Percival admitted.

"And we don't want to see him hurt," Lancelot finished.

"There's no better person in all of Camelot," Leon explained.

"I know that, I married him," Arthur protested.

"We're just saying," Gwaine shrugged. "You hurt him, we hurt you."

"We really don't want to do that, though," Lancelot said.

Arthur stared at them for a minute, then stood up. "Right. I'd like to take this moment to remind you all that I am your prince and someday your king, and I can have you all on the executioner's block any time I fancy."

"You wouldn't do that," Gwaine said with smug certainty. And, damn him, he was right.

Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. "Look, I wouldn't have married him if I—"

"Well, yes, but marriages aren't always happy, are they?" Percival said philosophically.

And, well, Percival being philosophical, that was the last straw.

"I'm sorry, did you idiots skip over the fact that _I_ _love him_?" Arthur demanded, nearly shouting the last few words.

A strange squeaking noise came from behind all of them, and they turned.

Merlin was standing in the door to the armory, eyes wide. "I, um, you—I was just, armor," he stuttered, holding up Arthur's newly un-dented breastplate.

"I think that's our cue," Lancelot said meaningfully.

The five knights filed out, each giving their version of _I'm watching you _to Arthur as they did so.

When they were all gone, Arthur turned to Merlin. "How much did you hear?"

"Just—just the last little bit of it." Merlin set the breastplate in its proper holder. "Did you," He took a steadying breath. "Did you really mean that?"

"What? That I love you?" Arthur's brow furrowed. "I should have thought that was obvious by now."

"No, no, I know that, I just—you've never said it before."

"Yes, I have."

"Not in front of other people. Not even at the wedding."

Arthur wracked his brain, trying to think of a time, and came up empty. He supposed that he had been used to hiding for so long, it had simply never occurred to him to admit it to anyone besides Merlin himself.

He held out his hand. "Merlin, come here."

Merlin came, because he always did when Arthur told him to (in both meanings of the term), and Arthur pulled him in so they could rest their foreheads together. "I can't shout it from the battlements just yet, but that doesn't mean I'm ashamed of us, of what we are together. I'll happily tell anyone it's safe to tell, and someday everyone in Camelot will know."

Merlin blushed and smiled bashfully. "You really don't have to…"

"Yes, I do." Arthur brushed their noses together. "Because I love you."

Merlin's blush deepened, and his grip on Arthur tightened momentarily. "You know, it was kind of funny."

"What?"

"All of them threatening you, saying I was their favorite."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "There'll be no living with you after this, will there?"

Merlin's smile grew. "Nope."

* * *

Shortly after that, Arthur realized something. It took him running into a few whispering, gossiping servants and receiving sly winks and congratulations from people in the lower town, but eventually he figured it out.

Once again, he gathered his knights to him.

"All right," he said. "Which one of you talked?"

They all pointed at each other. Arthur groaned.

"But if you're not going to do anything to make Merlin unhappy," Gwaine said, smirking, "Then surely it's not a problem if everyone knows?"

Arthur threw his hands in the air. "I give up!"

His Knights of the Round Table just laughed.


	25. Caught: Or, How to Scar Your Knights

**In which subtlety is not Merlin and Arthur's strong point.**

* * *

"Right there," Merlin groaned, his nails digging into Arthur's shoulder. "Don't—don't you dare stop—"

Arthur kissed him to keep him quiet. "Going to have to gag you one of these days."

That was it. That did it, and Merlin spilled all over their stomachs.

"Oh my God."

Merlin propped himself up and Arthur looked over his shoulder.

Lancelot stood in the doorway of the council chamber, mouth hanging open, staring at them. "Th—that's the _council table_!" He whispered, mortified.

"Um, yes, yes it is," Merlin said weakly.

Lancelot flushed bright red and fled, slamming the door behind them.

He didn't look Merlin or Arthur in the eye for a week, and he only spoke to them in mumbles.

* * *

"You," Merlin declared, straddling Arthur and undoing his belt, "Are an insufferable clot pole."

"So you keep telling me," Arthur gasped, arching up into Merlin's touch.

They were in Merlin's old bedroom, which Gaius now used as a storeroom (although it still, for some inexplicable reason, had a bed). It was also, by coincidence, the room that held the medicine Percival used for headaches, which Gaius had told him to "just stroll in and take whenever you need, it's a simple mixture and I keep plenty on hand."

So it was that Percival entered the small room just in time to see Merlin bat Arthur's wandering hands away, pin them to the bed above Arthur's head and growl, "Don't even think about it. You can't touch until I say so."

Percival put years of fighting training to good practical use and backed away silently out the door.

* * *

"You," Arthur growled, "You with your fucking _mouth_…"

He thrust a little harder for emphasis, making Merlin moan and clench around him. "Not my fault you look—oh fuck—when you're sparring—"

"Excuse me," Sir Leon said.

Merlin and Arthur froze in shock as Leon reached around them and grabbed the crossbow that Merlin was inadvertently leaning on. "Thanks," Leon said, heading out the door. "Maybe not the armory next time?" He called over his shoulder.

Arthur and Merlin just gaped.

* * *

"This was such a bad idea," Merlin grit out.

"By that you mean it was a fantastic idea."

"You're not the one lying on these stones, they're cold."

Arthur paused. "Do you want to switch?"

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

They looked up and saw Gwaine standing there, looking torn between amusement and annoyance. "Unless you want to invite people to join in, I suggest you do this in a bed like normal people, not on the bloody battlements!"

Merlin poked Arthur in the chest. "I told you!"

"You did not!"

"Arthur Pendragon, I will—"

Gwaine just sighed and continued with his patrol.

* * *

Arthur was right at the point of bliss, his head tipped back against the wall and his eyes closed, when suddenly it all went away.

He cracked an eye open and looked down. "You better have a good reason for stopping."

Merlin looked remarkably composed for someone on their knees with an erection two inches from their face. "Do you ever get the feeling someone's watching you?"

Arthur looked up, and Merlin looked over his shoulder.

Elyan was standing there, eyes wide, the picture of complete and utter shock.

"Elyan!" Merlin said brightly. "Something you needed?"

Elyan continued to stare.

"Elyan," Arthur said. "You can run out of here screaming any time you feel like it."

Elyan continued to stare.

"Elyan," Arthur growled. "Get. _Out_."

Every one of Arthur's knights knew that tone. That was the _who threatened Merlin_ tone, usually reserved for green knights freshly recruited who thought Merlin was someone to be belittled or made a joke of, and for bandits, evil kings and the like who tried to cause Merlin bodily harm.

That tone was so deeply ingrained in everyone as the ultimate danger signal that it managed to break through Elyan's shock. He turned around and bolted down the stairs without a word.

Arthur sighed. "Perhaps this wasn't the best of locations."

Merlin looked around, contemplating the fact that yes, they were in the middle of a hallway, then shrugged. "Well, since we're here, might as well finish what we started."

A few moments later, Arthur's shout echoed down the stairs.

* * *

"Do you think we should apologize?" Merlin suggested later that night.

"What for?" Arthur asked.

"We have managed to scar every single one of your knights," Merlin pointed out. "Except Leon. I don't think anything could scar him at this point, he's just become so numb to it."

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin," Arthur replied. "I'm the prince, I can do what I like, who I like, and when I like."

Merlin shrugged. "All right. But you weren't the one who got a tongue-lashing from Gwen for scarring her brother for life."

"Maybe we could try and be more… prudent," Arthur acquiesced. "For their sakes."

* * *

Two days later, all five knights caught them going at it in Arthur's tournament tent.


	26. The Darkest Hour Timestamp

When Lancelot returned, the bottom dropped out of Arthur's stomach.

Lancelot was alone.

"Lancelot?" Arthur asked. "Where's Merlin?"

Lancelot made a face and Arthur was certain that his heart stopped. "Bad news."

Oh no. No, no, no…

Lancelot smiled. "He's still alive."

Lancelot stepped out of the way to reveal Merlin, alive and whole, walking toward them with a smile on his face.

"Merlin!" Elyan said, the joy in his voice echoed in the faces of his companions.

There were hugs all around, and then Merlin turned to Arthur. He figured about five strides separated him from his husband.

Arthur made it in three.

He got an arm around Merlin's waist and a hand at the back of his head, holding him tightly as he kissed him. Merlin's had fingers in the short hair at the back of his neck and a hand pressing between his shoulder blades, and Arthur could feel his smile as he returned the kiss, their mouths moving in tandem.

"Worried about me?" Merlin whispered against his mouth.

Arthur grinned. "No."

Merlin laughed and kissed him again.

Since this was the first time they had shown open romantic affection in front of anyone, the knights behaved accordingly.

That is, Elyan pretended to gag, Percival whistled, Leon told them to behave like adults, Gwaine made a rude hand gesture and Lancelot gave an exaggerated 'aww'.

Arthur gave them all the middle finger.

* * *

It was a dark day in Camelot.

Merlin stared at the flames of the funeral pyre, empty save for the remnants of Lancelot's armor. There wasn't even a proper body to bury him in.

Guinevere tried to be quiet but she cried so hard her eyes became too puffy to see through, and Arthur had to hold her throughout the funeral ceremony. Merlin could hear her hiccuping into Arthur's chest, using his red cape as a handkerchief to blow her nose on. Arthur, to his infinite credit, simply hugged her and gazed stoically at the fire.

Lancelot was gone.

Yes, he had been a knight. Yes, he had been Gwen's love and perhaps her husband if fate had been kinder. Yes, he had been the noblest, most honorable man anyone had ever known. But more than that, he had been Merlin's friend.

He had known about Merlin's magic—the only one besides Gaius. It had been such a relief to fight by Arthur's side with Lancelot there, knowing that he could depend upon Lancelot to help him, knowing there was one person he didn't have to hide from.

Lancelot had been the one who encouraged Merlin to go after Arthur. Gwen had been far from keen on the idea at first, not having the highest opinion of Arthur, but Lancelot had insisted.

"He likes you back," Lancelot would tell him, when Merlin was feeling down and like Arthur didn't even care if he lived or died and wondering why he had to fall in love with an arrogant, spoiled child. "He really cares for you, Merlin. You can see it in his eyes when he looks at you."

When Merlin and Arthur had teamed up to save Gwen and run into Lancelot again, Lancelot had leaned in and whispered, "He's looking at you again," or "It's only a matter of time, Merlin."

Nobody had been happier for Merlin when Arthur had finally made a move and kissed him.

Merlin remembered Lancelot's speech at the wedding.

"I do not know of two people more suited for each other," he had said, "because I do not know of two people who raised each other up, who bring out the best in each other, and who defend and fight for each other the way Arthur and Merlin do."

"Merlin," Arthur said.

Merlin blinked away his tears and realized that the fire had died. The funeral was over. He was the only one left.

"He was a true friend," he whispered. "He saved you."

"He saved you as well," Arthur pointed out. "And the only proper way to repay him is to live, and live with joy, as he would have wanted us to."

Yes, Merlin thought. That's what Lancelot would have wanted.

Because Lancelot was, quite possibly, the more pure-hearted person Merlin had ever known.


	27. The Wicked Day Timestamp

Merlin comes to bed that night silent and near tears. He won't tell Arthur why, but his grief is strange enough to pull Arthur out of his own stupor of mourning. Merlin never particularly liked Uther. Arthur knew and understood this. Sometimes _he_ didn't like Uther. But Merlin won't tell him what he's upset about. So when Arthur can bear to talk to people again, can actually look at something other than his father's corpse, he takes Merlin to bed and he holds him. Just holds him and strokes a hand through his hair, for hours. Merlin never makes a sound, but Arthur feels the tears that hit his chest as Merlin rests his head on it. He holds him all through the night, trembling with helplessness, first his father's death and then his husband's grief.

"Tell me," he wants to say.

"Who hurt you," he wants to ask, so he can hurt them back. Nobody hurts what is his.

But he doesn't say that, and it isn't until years later when he knows the truth that he realizes… he didn't need to ask.

Deep in his soul, he already knew the answer.


	28. Possession

**I wrote this drabble once, but then somehow it didn't save. So, after a good few minutes of panic and cursing, I have rewritten it. I don't think it's as good as the first time around but I hope you all enjoy it anyway.**

* * *

There were various reasons for Merlin's, as Gaius put it, sass. First, it let off steam. Second, it amused Arthur (although he'd never admit it). Third, it amused Merlin, and if you can't amuse yourself then what's the point of life? Fourth…

Arthur clapped his hands over Merlin's shoulders and spun him around, pressing up against his back.

Fourth, it got Arthur all riled up.

It wasn't like Merlin had done it intentionally—at least, not the first time, anyway. But then Arthur had shoved him face-first into the bed and Merlin had found great pleasure in pushing Arthur until he snapped. One muttered remark too many and Merlin found himself against the nearest stable surface (wall, floor, bookshelf) for Arthur to have his way with.

"Brace your hands on the table," Arthur growled, mouth right against Merlin's ear. Merlin obeyed, a shiver of anticipation working its way through him as Arthur's hands slid down his sides.

"You," Arthur whispered, one hand slipping down the front of Merlin's pants, "Just don't know when to stop, do you?"

Merlin had to suppress a groan as Arthur's hand wrapped around him. "You like me that way," he replied, panting.

Arthur hummed noncommittally, stroking Merlin as if they had all day for this. Merlin dug his nails into the wood, breathing heavily through his nose as he kept his lips shut to prevent any sound from coming out. He knew that it drove Arthur nuts when he was silent, and sure enough Arthur sped up his pace a little, frustrated at Merlin's lack of response. Merlin arched back into him and felt an answering hardness in Arthur's own pants, and he let out a moan.

He could picture Arthur's grin perfectly, the _good boy_ thought but not spoken. Arthur pulled his hand away, fingertips dancing along the hem of Merlin's trousers, quickly unlacing them. Merlin considered making a smart remark but abandoned it in favor of helping wiggle out of his pants while Arthur undid his own. As soon as the clothing was out of the way Arthur draped himself over Merlin, covering him and preventing him from moving, a physical manifestation of _mine_.

The thing was, despite his protests and japes, Merlin far from minded it. How could he, when "mine" meant Arthur prepping him and scattering kisses up his spine until he was squirming, panting with need (_for fuck's sake, will we actually finish today? Shut up, if your arse is bleeding it won't be my fault_) before they even got to the main event? When "mine" meant mine to care for, mine to cherish, mine to love? Arthur had been raised from birth to believe that he could have anything he wanted, and that everything belonged to him. But with ownership came responsibility. Camelot belonged to Arthur, but Arthur belonged to Camelot. In Arthur's mind, ownership also meant servitude.

So when Arthur growled _mine_ into the back of Merlin's neck, thrusting hard enough to make the table shake, Merlin replied with _yours, yours, always yours_, and he meant it.

Besides, Merlin didn't know of anyone who complained about having sex that made you come so hard you nearly blacked out.

"You all right?" Arthur asked, as he always did. Merlin didn't need to turn around to see the half-guilty look Arthur was wearing.

"At least we didn't break the table this time," Merlin noted. "I might have gotten a splinter, though." Sure enough, there were indents in the wood from where he'd clawed at it.

Arthur slid out and took a step back. Without his support, Merlin's knees buckled and he nearly fell, Arthur's battle reflexes the only thing saving him. Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin's waist and yanked him upright, pressing against his back again and nosing through his hair. "A little worn out?" Arthur murmured teasingly.

"Nah," Merlin said, knowing Arthur would see through the white lie. "I'm perfectly fine."

Arthur laughed softly and wrapped his arms a little more tightly around him, kissing the side of his neck. "Mine."

Merlin twisted around and bumped their noses together, smiling. "Yours."


	29. His Father's Son Timestamp

Merlin helps Arthur to prepare in silence. He works efficiently but moves a little more slowly than usual, his face closed off. It's partially because he is angry with Arthur. He understands Arthur's need to cling to what little family he has left. He knows that Arthur wants a father figure, someone to turn to, someone he can shift the responsibility onto, someone with whom he can be a child again. He realizes that Arthur doesn't feel ready to be king. But Arthur should have believed in himself, not listened to Agravaine. Now Arthur is going off to his possible death.

And that's what really upsets Merlin.

He finishes putting on the armor and does a final inspection. Besides his magic, which he has to be careful with, suiting Arthur up in his armor is the only thing Merlin can do to protect him. Arthur will not die because a strap was loose or a link in the chain mail had broken.

"You're angry with me," Arthur says.

Merlin doesn't trust himself to say anything, knowing that if he opens his mouth he'll tell Arthur what he really thinks of the situation. Namely, that Agravaine is an arrogant, hard-nosed, spineless, close-minded prick as well as a complete and utter fool, and that Arthur was an idiot and shouldn't have let his uncle come to court in the first place.

Arthur brushes his gloved knuckles against Merlin's cheek. "Don't worry. I'll win this and you can yell at me on the way home."

Merlin starts to laugh, only it comes out closer to a sob and he quickly shuts his mouth again. He catches Arthur's hand before it can move away, pressing his cheek against it, clutching at it.

"Here." Arthur takes Merlin's hand and presses something small into his palm. Merlin opens his hand and starts at it. It's Igraine's ring—originally belonging to Arthur's grandfather, who gave it to his daughter on her wedding day to wear around her neck, to remember him by when she left to live in Camelot. Arthur has worn it constantly, for as long as Merlin has known him.

"I can't." Merlin tries to hand the ring back, but Arthur shakes his head.

"I want you to have it."

Merlin's words all pile up on top of each other, clogging up this throat and preventing him from saying anything. Arthur smiles and suddenly Merlin can't help it, he kisses him, the ring digging into his skin as he closes his fingers around it. "Come back to me," he whispers. "Promise, promise you'll come back."

Arthur kisses him again, lets their tongues tangle and stroke, nice and slow. "This is my promise," he whispers, tapping Merlin's fist where the ring hides.

* * *

After Arthur wins, both the fight and the respect of everyone around him, he takes Merlin back to the tent and kisses him so deeply he nearly dips him, promising, "I will always come back to you."


	30. A Servant of Two Masters Timestamp

**I know that this episode was humorous and now I'm infusing it with angst. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry.**

* * *

Morgana had plans for Merlin. Wonderfully simple, poetic plans. Really, Merlin's devotion to Arthur was unparalleled. If Morgana didn't know any better, she'd have said that the idiot was in love with her darling brother. What better way to kill Arthur then to have his most loyal servant, his trusted friend deliver the death blow?

But first. Information.

Agravaine was her eyes and ears in Camelot, yes, but Arthur didn't make his uncle privy to everything. Arthur had long taken Merlin's council, and there was nothing about the young king that Merlin didn't know. So before Morgana sent him on his merry way to murder his master, she needed to see what Merlin knew.

Unfortunately, Merlin was strong. Morgana had always known Merlin was braver than others gave him credit for, but his resistance to her methods was… annoying, to say the least. He spent the first five hours refusing to say anything, and even when he did begin talking it was all nonsense.

"To have and to hold…" he whispered, his lips chapped. The words were breathed out more than actually spoken, so quiet that Morgana could barely understand them.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Agravaine asked, bored and a little spooked by Morgana's torture methods. Squeamish idiot. She couldn't wait to get rid of him.

"…for better or for worse…"

Morgana seized Merlin's chin and jerked his face up to meet hers. "You'll tell me what I want," she informed him. "I suggest you make it sooner rather than later."

Merlin's eyes were dull and he seemed to stare right through her. "…for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…"

Morgana released him and stalked over to her ingredient shelves. They were wasting their time. If Merlin was gone for too long Arthur would begin to worry. Honestly, it was like Merlin was Arthur's personal pet instead of a servant.

"…to love and to cherish…"

Morgana grabbed the jar she'd threatened Merlin with earlier. Time to make good on that threat.

"…from this day forward…"

Morgana cut off the appropriate head and stalked back over to Merlin.

"…until death do us part," Merlin finished, the breath wheezing out of him.

Morgana inserted the Fomorroh head into the back of Merlin's neck.


	31. The Secret Sharer Timestamp

They didn't speak for over a week.

Of course, some found this to be preferable to the shouting match that resulted in broken crockery and a cracked table (which neither Merlin or Arthur would admit to breaking) and went on for a good two hours. Everybody heard it, from the stablehand to the bookkeeper, and if someone didn't know that their new King Arthur and his "manservant" were married, well, they certainly knew now. And if, by some chance, they didn't hear the initial yelling and hoarse screaming, then they got to hear the story of it in the tavern that night—despite several noble attempts from Sir Leon to quell the rumors.

Once they finished trying to out-shout the other, however, Merlin stomped down to his old room in Gaius's quarters, stony face and ignoring any attempts to talk to him, and so began the week-long cold shoulder.

Of course, it's a little difficult to conduct state affairs when your partner is refusing to speak to you, so Gwen ended up having to carry messages back and forth.

She was less than pleased.

But more than that, she was scared. They all were. Merlin and Arthur had plenty of marital spats. Arthur was proud and Merlin was stubborn and they were both a little too cutting in their wit and stupidly overprotective—something had to give at eventually. But never had there been a proper fight between them. Certainly not like this.

"I'm honestly worried," Gwen confessed to Leon. "They've never gone this long without speaking to each other."

"Not even angry sex?" Gwaine asked, joining in on the conversation.

Gwen shook her head.

"They'll work it out," Elyan said weakly. "They always do, don't they?"

Percival and Gwaine exchanged dubious looks.

"It all depends on Gaius," Leon said, speaking slowly.

"If Gaius dies…" Gwen spoke softly, her body unnaturally still, "Then I don't think Merlin will ever forgive Arthur."

They all looked at one another, searching for reassurance and finding only fear.

* * *

Any hopes of reconciliation once Gaius was released were short lived. Merlin and Arthur still refused to speak to each other.

Gwen tried speaking to them.

"I was doing what I had to do," Arthur argued. "It's not as if I enjoyed it!"

"He got scared and listened to that idiot Agravaine instead of doing what he knows is right," Merlin said, thumping a beaker so hard on the table that it shattered. He didn't even seem to notice. "He should know better than to think Gaius would ever betray him!"

Gwen then tried shouting at them. Shaming them and throwing in a few yells usually did the trick.

Not this time.

Finally, Gwen rounded up the knights and they all appealed to Gaius. Gaius said he'd see what he could do.

That night, Gaius sat down with Merlin for dinner. "You've been rather quiet lately."

Merlin shrugged.

"How's Arthur?"

"Why should I know?" Merlin replied.

Gaius sighed. "Merlin…"

"He would have killed you, Gaius. Just like Uther." Merlin looked up, his eyes wet. "How could he do that? He's better than that, I know he is."

"He is scared, Merlin," Gaius said gently. "He doesn't trust himself."

"He could at least trust me," Merlin sniped.

"That's a fair point. But he also knows who you are, Merlin. You love completely and absolutely." Gaius smiled. "And that is a very good thing. But it means that you might be blind to someone's betrayal. Arthur knows how close we are. If I may be a bit presumptuous, I view you as a son. He knew you would defend me no matter what, just as you will believe in Arthur no matter what. And sometimes, a faith that absolute is hard to believe in, because you don't know if it's grounded in truth or simply for the sake of believing."

Merlin stared at his stew, and Gaius gently took it away, covering Merlin's smooth hands with his wrinkled ones. "Go to him, Merlin. He misses you terribly, and I know that you miss him."

Merlin sighed and looked up. "But how can I forgive him?"

"You love him, don't you?" Gaius smiled. "Time will take care of the rest."

* * *

Meanwhile, Gwen was doing a number on Arthur. A lot of stern finger-wagging was involved. "You know he was right," she finished. "Admitting your mistakes doesn't make you weak—it makes you a better person."

"What if he doesn't even want to see me anymore?" Arthur asked dully.

Gwen smiled. "I think you underestimate Merlin's devotion. Trust me, if he misses you even half as much as you've missed him—"

There was a tentative knock on the door, and Arthur stiffened.

"And that's my cue," Gwen said, sweeping across the room to open the door. "Ah, Merlin, wonderful timing. I was just heading out."

Merlin stepped into the room, shifting awkwardly. Gwen slipped out with an encouraging wink, closing the door behind her.

And now they were alone.

The awkward pause that followed was finally broken by Merlin who, in proper Merlin fashion, began babbling.

"It's not that I don't understand the pressure you're under," he said, "because I do, or I'm trying to, and I know that you want someone to tell you what to do and how to be but Arthur, you can't, and I just, I just want you to trust yourself and your friends for once because your father never trusted anyone and he was miserable his entire life and I don't want you to be miserable, I want you to be happy and smile because you never smile anymore these days and it makes me sick inside and—"

Arthur took three immense strides across the room and smashed their mouths together.

It wasn't the most coordinated of kisses, and it wasn't about to make the Top Five list, but it was the first contact they'd had in weeks and so for them it was glorious.

Merlin pressed his face into Arthur's shoulder, closing his eyes and clinging to him for all he was worth. Arthur's fingers dug painfully into his back, but he didn't care. He'd missed this. These past few weeks had felt like something had been ripped out of his chest and left him hollow and aching inside.

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered. "You were right and I refused to listen, and I hurt you and I am so, so sorry. I don't want to hurt you." He kept his voice low, otherwise it would crack and betray the emotions pressing against his ribs, threatening to explode and make him fly apart into tiny pieces. "I don't know how to do this, Merlin. I can't—I can't seem to get it right. You're the one thing I know how to get right, and then it felt like I was losing you and I can't do that. I can't, I can't, I can't…"

"You won't," Merlin promised. He pulled back so that Arthur could see his face. "You won't lose me."

Arthur let out a sound that might have been a sob, if Arthur Pendragon was the kind of person who cried or even admitted to crying, and then they were kissing again and they didn't stop for a very, very long time.


	32. The Issue of Succession

Not many people in Camelot were capable of slamming the castle doors, seeing as they were made of solid oak and ten feet tall, but Arthur managed to do it, and do it well. So well, in fact, that it startled Merlin out of the catnap he was sneaking.

"Snz-wha?" He asked, blinking dazedly.

"Merlin, how old am I?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin squinted at him. "What?"

Arthur continued on. "I am twenty four, Merlin. Twenty four years old! And Agravaine is pressing me to get an heir!"

"Well, tell him to sod off," Merlin suggested.

"He says that 'the question of Camelot's succession must be decided'," Arthur scoffed. "I'm in the prime of my life, I'm not going anywhere! And even if I did, there's you!"

"Oh no you don't!" Merlin jumped out of bed, fully awake now. "First of all, if you die I am going to find the nearest cave and live out the rest of my life as a hermit. Or, perhaps, fall on your sword. Rather poetic, wouldn't you say? I haven't decided which yet."

"Don't be dramatic, Merlin."

"Second of all, I have absolutely no interest in being king. Politics bore me, you know that."

"You would make a fine king, Merlin."

"Our marriage wouldn't even be accepted by the other kingdoms."

"That's just because Gaius married us," Arthur said, waving it off. "We'd just have to do the ceremony over again with Geoffrey presiding."

"Five kingdoms don't accept same-sex relations," Merlin said flatly. "I checked."

"Well what do you expect me to do?" Arthur said, gesturing wildly. "Go find a random woman and knock her up? The political ramifications alone…"

"I'm hopeless at meetings, I always fall asleep…"

"…we'd have to consider the mother an interested party at the very least…"

"…I'm hopeless at being nice to people I don't like…"

"…just take lessons from Guinevere, she's a natural at this sort of thing…"

"…I'm not like Gwen, I can't charm everyone and persuade them to do anything I want…"

There was a knock at the door and Gwen poked her head in. "Sorry to bother you, but we're half an hour into the council session and while they've accepted my proposal concerning the Weavers' Guild they want your seal on it and they're getting a bit impatient. Did you forget the meeting was today?"

Merlin and Arthur looked at each other and said simultaneously, "That's it!"

* * *

"It's perfect," Arthur declared.

"I'm not sure I understand…" Gwen said slowly.

"It's simple," Arthur said, clapping his hands together. "I'll name you my successor, we'll have the ceremony—and possibly a tournament, show we mean business—you'll be Crown Princess and heir to the throne and my succession problems will be over!"

"I'm honored by your faith in me," Gwen said. "But I'm not sure that I'm worthy for the role."

"You'll be amazing," Merlin assured her.

"You'll be queen someday," Arthur went on. "And when you get married—"

"Who says I'm getting married anytime soon?" Gwen demanded.

"—your children will inherit your title. The throne of Camelot is secure."

"Arthur…"

"And Merlin and I won't have to hide anymore."

Gwen's eyes lit up. "Oh?"

Merlin didn't like that gleam. "What?"

Gwen smiled. "Oh, nothing." She turned to Arthur. "If you truly think me worthy, Arthur, then I would be honored to accept. I will do my best to learn from you, and to serve and honor Camelot as you have done."

"Excellent! Then it's settled!" Arthur beamed.

"Right." Gwen nodded. "I suppose I'll have to organize this tournament in my honor, then, so I should get going."

Merlin stopped her out in the hallway. "Gwen, wait." He hugged her. "Thank you." He pulled back. "And you will be a great queen."

"I don't care if I'm queen or not," Gwen replied, patting Merlin's cheek. "What I care about is that you're happy."

* * *

When Agravaine learned that Guinevere was going to be named Crown Princess of Camelot, heir to the throne and future queen, who's progeny would in turn rule Camelot, he—as Arthur put it—was "displeased".

Merlin preferred the term, "nearly shit a brick".


	33. Lancelot du Lac Timestamp

_There is a woman, a serving girl, a lowly peasant called Guinevere. Or Gwen, as she's known to her friends. She is honest and straightforward, and a simple soul. There are many who have tried to gain access to the throne of Camelot, but it is she who has won the honor. Arthur trusts her entirely. As he does you. For you are Lancelot, the noble, the brave, the honourable. You're everything the Knight's Code stands for._

_Before she was announced as heir, before she turned her mind to governing… before she became the people's, she was yours. You were her first love._

_And you will be her last._

* * *

Arthur gazed down at Guinevere, her face pale and streaked with tears. She looked so small and fragile, so unlike the strong Gwen he knew and relied upon.

But how could he rely upon her anymore? She had forsaken the tournament and nearly cost him his life in her sudden obsession with Lancelot. Arthur had known that their love was strong (or nauseating, as Merlin put it) but he'd never guessed Gwen would let her heart rule her head so completely.

And now, she was inadvertently guilty of treason.

"You will leave, please," Arthur said softly. "All of you."

Everyone filed slowly out of the room, Agravaine with a superior look on his face. Glad to be proven right about Guinevere, Arthur was certain.

Merlin alone stayed.

Arthur began to circle Gwen. "What are you still doing on your knees? Am I just your king? Get up for goodness' sake."

Gwen stood on shaky legs.

"You were to be my heir."

Arthur completed his circle, facing her again. Gwen held his gaze tremulously. "What happened, Guinevere?"

Gwen tried to answer, but seemed to find no words, and shook her head.

"You were happy," Arthur said. "At least, I hope so."

Gwen nodded, her eyes closing to try and stop more tears from sliding down her face.

"Tomorrow… was your coronation day."

Gwen nodded again, painfully, the tears coming in earnest now. "I know."

"If you had worries…"

Gwen shook her head. "I wasn't worried."

"If you had doubts…"

"I didn't have any doubts."

"Then forgive me," Arthur said, "Because I must be really stupid." He grabbed her forearms tightly, shaking her. "_What were you doing_?"

"Arthur," Merlin said, taking a step forward.

Arthur blinked, looked down at his hands, and released her. "I'm sorry, I don't… I'm sorry."

"No. No. No, it is I who should be sorry." Gwen hiccuped. "You and Merlin mean everything to me, you're my friends—you're more than that, you're my family. I love and respect you, you know I do."

Arthur gazed at the wall, refusing to look at her. Merlin kept silent. Yes, he had nearly lost Arthur because of Gwen's actions, but this wasn't between him and Gwen. He and Gwen had a different friendship than Gwen and Arthur did, and it was that friendship that was on the line.

"I did love Lancelot once. But not… not for many months now. I moved on. I thought he was dead. I thought I would never see him again, and… and then… when I did, I was… overwhelmed. I was drawn to him. I couldn't stop myself, I don't know why."

Gwen pressed her hands to her face, as if in prayer.

"All I wanted was to be your friend. To serve you and to serve Camelot. All I wanted was to be the heir, to bring about a new age the way we've always talked about…" Gwen couldn't finish and she pressed a hand to her stomach and another over her mouth, trying to stifle her sob.

Merlin wanted to move forward, to comfort her, but he knew it would only make Arthur angry again and they'd have to start all over. Arthur pointed at the closed doors. "Do you know what they were saying?"

Guinevere shook her head.

"That in my father's day, you'd be put to death."

"Arthur!" Merlin said sharply.

Arthur held up a hand. Merlin quieted, but still glared warningly.

"I do not want to see you dead," Arthur said, and Gwen looked hopeful, "But I do not want to see you. I cannot look at you every day."

Gwen took a tiny step forward. "Arthur—"

"You return on pain of death."

"No," Gwen whispered.

Arthur strode past her. "That is my decision."

"No!" Gwen's voice rose. "No, you and, and Merlin and—and Elyan, you're—my family, you're all I have, I'm—I'm not leaving you!" She looked desperately at Merlin. "Where will I go?"

Arthur paused and turned his head slightly, half looking back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I am truly sorry." He swept out of the room.

Gwen took one gasping breath and Merlin rushed forward, catching her as she fainted.

* * *

"It's not too late."

Arthur didn't turn away from the window.

"I know what Gwen did was desperately wrong, but she is a good person. I truly believe that."

"As do I," Arthur replied.

Merlin placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "Can you find it in your heart to forgive her?"

Arthur pressed his lips together, holding back a sigh. "That's not the problem."

"Agravaine?" Merlin demanded, stepping in front of Arthur. "Well, it is Agravaine, isn't it? He's wrong. People won't find you weak or a fool. They will find you merciful, understanding."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Merlin," Arthur said, finally looking at him. "I love Gwen, with all my heart. Since Morgana's betrayal… she has become a sister to me. She has filled the gap that Morgana tore out. And I'm sure in time, I'll forgive her."

Merlin's face showed his lack of understanding, and Arthur went on.

"But I'll never trust her. I can't live like that. Not as a king, and certainly not with my heir, the person I should trust above all others in matters of state. And though it pains me… it's best that she's gone."

* * *

"He'll come around," Merlin said. "I'm sure of it."

Gwen smiled sadly. "Arthur's endless forgiveness, I suspect, begins and ends with you."

Merlin hugged her tightly. "I'll find a way to bring you back. I promise."

Gwen pulled away. "Until then," she whispered.

Merlin nodded. "Until then."

He stood there, watching, as his first and best friend left Camelot.


	34. The Hunter's Heart Timestamp

"How bad is it?" Elyan whispered.

"Not as bad as that time with Gaius," Percival answered.

"Nothing was as bad as that time," Leon said dully. "I thought they might call it quits for good."

Gwaine glanced over at where Arthur was speaking to Princess Mithian. "He's hid the hickeys Merlin gave him quite well. What d'you suppose he's using to cover them up?"

The other knights stared at him.

"What?" Gwaine shrugged.

* * *

Arthur glanced over at Merlin. "I don't think staring at the clothes will get them to fold, Merlin."

Merlin didn't respond, but he began folding said clothes and putting them away in the wardrobe. Arthur frowned. "No comment? Not even a muttered retort?"

When Merlin still didn't reply, Arthur marched over to him, taking a shirt out of Merlin's hands and replacing it with his own. "You're angry with me."

"I'm not sure that's the right word," Merlin replied, not meeting Arthur's eyes, "But it'll do for now."

"I have to marry her, Merlin. It's politics."

Merlin mumbled something.

"What?"

"I said, you wouldn't have to marry her if Gwen was your heir."

Arthur released Merlin's hands and walked over to the window. "You know that is no longer possible."

"So what, then?" Merlin demanded. "We're going to just keep hiding all of our lives?"

Arthur turned slightly, looking back at Merlin.

"At first it was, until Uther's dead," Merlin said. "Then it was, as soon as the line of succession was secure. Now, it's never?" Arthur could see Merlin's body shaking slightly in his effort to remain calm and in control. "Am I not good enough?"

"What? No!" Arthur protested.

"What other conclusion can I draw, Arthur?" Merlin demanded. "I'm good enough to share your bed but you won't announce our relationship? I'm not good enough to take a bit of risk for? I'm not good enough to trust that I can help you figure things out?" Merlin's hands were clenched into fists at his side, and he was legitimately shaking now. "What am I, your bed warmer?"

"Merlin," Arthur said warningly. He took a few strides forward, placing them only inches apart. "I wouldn't do that to you. What kind of man do you take me for?"

"The kind who's still too scared to follow his heart and trust that the people will follow him in turn," Merlin shot back.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly and he took a deep breath, as if sucking in the weight of Merlin's words. Merlin relaxed his hands and turned away, going back to folding the laundry.

"I know you love me," he said softly. "I don't doubt that, Arthur. But are you proud of me? Do you think me worthy to stand beside you?"

Something cracked inside of Arthur's chest and he pulled Merlin away from the clothes, turning him and holding his face in his hands.

"You," he said, pronouncing each word with weight and care, "Are my husband. You are my council, my rock, and my love. And there is no one I want to stand beside me, no one more worthy, than you."

He sealed his declaration with a kiss.

* * *

"Tell me," Princess Mithian asked, "Who is it that trumps a princess?"

"No one," Arthur said. "And everyone."

Mithian brightened. "What great family is she from?"

"None," Arthur replied. "He comes from a village of farmers."

A knowing gleam crept into Mithian's eyes. "And for him you would risk your kingship? Your kingdom?"

Merlin couldn't breathe.

"Without him, they're worth nothing to me."

Mithian considered this, looking down. Abruptly she looked up and gazed straight at Merlin, sudden understanding written on her face. Merlin fidgeted. He hadn't exactly been polite to her. She looked back at Arthur. "I would give up my own kingdom to be so loved. Farewell, Arthur."

"Farewell, Princess."

As Mithian mounted her horse and rode out, Arthur turned to Merlin and smiled. "I think we have an announcement to plan."

Giddily, Merlin smiled back.

Off to the side where the knights stood, several small bags of coins exchanged hands.


	35. Mother

Arthur likes to think, in his more reflective moments, that if his mother had lived he would have liked to have a relationship with her like the one Merlin has with Hunith.

Merlin doesn't lie to his mother—he sees no reason for it. He comes to her with questions and concerns, or even when he just needs comforting. And Hunith is there with advice or an amusing story or a warm hug that lasts as long as Merlin needs it to or whatever the situation calls for.

She's strong, as well. She's clearly the village leader, and she is quick-thinking and discerning.

Merlin once admitted to Arthur that when he was little, he wanted to be just like his mother when he grew up.

Arthur half-expected Hunith to give him a stern talk the way Gwen had, about how Merlin is wonderful and loves with his whole being and would give his soul to Arthur if he could and that if Arthur hurts him in any way retribution will be swift in coming but will take a long and painful time leaving, but Hunith doesn't do that at all. Instead she hugs him, and smiles at him with warm eyes, and tells him, "Welcome to the family, Arthur."

And after a while 'Arthur' becomes 'my boy' which becomes 'my son'.

Arthur doesn't lie to Hunith—he sees no reason for it. He comes to her with questions and concerns, or even when he just needs comforting. And Hunith is there with advice or an amusing story or a warm hug that lasts as long as Arthur needs it to or whatever the situation calls for.

And Arthur slowly realizes that his birth mother may have died, but that doesn't mean he's motherless.

In fact, he has a very wonderful mother. And, like Merlin, he kind of wants to be like her when he grows up.


	36. The Sword in the Stone Timestamp

Adrenaline, losing his friends and father figure, and narrowly escaping with their lives aside, Merlin had to say he liked an Arthur that actually listened to him and apologized when he was a prat.

Especially when he was saying things like, "I'm entirely in your hands."

Merlin might have squirreled a few ideas away for later when they were back home in Camelot and not running for their lives.

At the same time… it rubbed him the wrong way.

Simply put, it wasn't _his_ Arthur.

His Arthur was too proud to admit he was wrong ninety percent of the time. His Arthur didn't ask, he demanded. His Arthur gave out apologies the way other people had teeth pulled.

But his Arthur was also quick-thinking, and commanding, and in control of the situation. He was honorable, diplomatic, and annoyingly endearing.

Merlin eagerly awaited the day they were safely in Ealdor and he could have that Arthur, the real Arthur, back.

* * *

Hunith ran to greet them, her smile wide and shining. "Oh, my boys!" She said, kissing them soundly on the cheek. "I've missed you so."

Arthur grinned. It was good to see Hunith again. Suddenly pain stabbed him in the ribs. His initial burst of adrenaline was wearing off and his injury was making itself known. "Merlin," he grunted, his knees buckling.

Merlin caught him before he fell, holding him upright. "He needs tending to."

The last thing Arthur saw was Tristan bending down to help Merlin carry him.

* * *

When he awoke it was much later, toward evening. Someone was tending to his injured ribs. He'd have guessed it was Merlin, but Merlin's hands felt different—larger, with longer fingers, and more sure in their touch.

He blinked, and opened his eyes.

For a moment, he was startled at how deer-like she looked. Wide dark eyes that were soft and sad, brown velvet skin and a graceful frame. They regarded one another for a moment, one in shock and the other resigned.

"Guinevere," Arthur said.

"Arthur," Gwen replied.

He tried to sit up. "What are you doing here?"

"Hunith took me in on Merlin's request," Gwen explained. "She's been most gracious."

Arthur sighed. "Guinevere…"

Gwen tensed.

"I've missed you." Arthur coughed. "As has Merlin. He won't stop hounding me to let you come back."

Gwen smiled tentatively. "And I have missed you both."

He opened his arms and Gwen hugged him, bursting into tears.

* * *

The sounds of Agravaine's men were growing louder.

"I thought you'd said we lost them?" Arthur asked.

"I thought I had," Merlin replied defensively.

"It won't take long for them to catch us," Tristan informed them, positive as ever.

"I'll go back," Merlin said.

"What are you going to do?" Arthur asked in his _I dare you to repeat what you just said _tone.

"Create a diversion," Merlin said, unperturbed by Arthur's tone, as always.

Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him. "It's too risky."

"I know these tunnels and Agravaine doesn't," Merlin said. "You keep going."

Tristan took this at face value and moved on, supporting Isolde. Gwen hesitated but moved a few feet, glancing back over her shoulder. Merlin handed Arthur his torch and turned to go, but Arthur stopped him again, cupping a hand around the back of his neck. "Merlin…" He hesitated, then leaned in and kissed him, softly, right at the corner of his mouth. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Me?" Merlin asked, smiling.

* * *

Arthur slowed to a stop and turned around. Tristan also stopped. "What are you doing?"

"Shh!" Arthur listened carefully, hearing the sound of falling rocks. "Merlin."

"He knows the tunnels," Tristan said. "He'll find his way."

"I'm going back," Arthur said, walking past them back the way they had come.

Tristan stared after Arthur in confusion. "For a servant?"

"You're wrong about him," Gwen said. She took a step closer. "And Merlin's not just a servant. He's Arthur's husband."

Tristan gaped at her. "He married a servant?"

Gwen just smiled.

* * *

Arthur jumped around the corner, ready to attack the person waiting on the other side and—

"Merlin!" Arthur straightened up. "Where have you been?"

Merlin smirked. "Were you worried about me?"

"No," Arthur lied. "I was making sure we weren't being followed."

Merlin's smirk morphed into a full smile. "You came back to look for me."

"All right, it's true," Arthur admitted. He tried for a smile, but it faltered. "You know I couldn't—" He swallowed, then shrugged. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

"Really?" Merlin asked, stepping closer.

Arthur huffed. "Don't be stupid."

Merlin kissed him. "Me, stupid? Never."

* * *

"Come on," Merlin said, plunking himself down next to Arthur, "I'll take watch." When Arthur merely continued brooding, he pressed on. "Arthur, what's the matter?" Merlin grew serious. "Don't listen to Tristan, he doesn't know you."

Arthur's voice was heavy. "I trusted the wrong people."

Merlin shook his head. "They betrayed you. That wasn't your fault."

"No. I was a fool," Arthur said bitterly. "I misjudged everyone. My uncle, Morgana… Every decision I've made has been wrong."

Merlin leaned against him. "You're being too hard on yourself."

Arthur's expression didn't change, but he leaned into Merlin. "I should be more discerning, wise… a statesman, a king. Tristan's right, there's nothing special about me. I'm just like everyone else."

"You're not," Merlin insisted. "You're a worthy king."

"I'm good with a sword," Arthur replied. "That's all."

Merlin placed his fingers at the side of Arthur's jaw, gently turning him so they were staring into each other's eyes. "Your people love you."

"Most of them are dead, thanks to me." Arthur was trying to avoid Merlin's gaze, but it wasn't working.

"No, most of them escaped. They'll be here in the forest, I'm sure of that."

"Well, if they are, they'll have to find themselves a new king."

Arthur shook off Merlin's touch and stood, walking away. Merlin stood as well. He wasn't going to give up that easily.

* * *

No matter how many times Merlin heard the people chant, "Long Live the King!" he didn't think he would ever tire of hearing it. Sometimes, late at night, he'd stare down at Arthur, tracing the lines of his face with his eyes, his fingertips, and he'd whisper _long live the king_, as if it were a prayer.

But he didn't think any of the chants sounded as sweet, as well-earned, as the time the chant went up when King Arthur pulled the sword from the stone.

* * *

"Never give up hope," Isolde told Gwen. "Love is stronger than anything."

Gwen scoffed. "Even the betrayal of your family?"

Isolde nudged her. "Believe me. I know a few things about betrayal, and family." She nodded toward Arthur. "And if there's one thing I know, be it lovers or friends or siblings, if you choose to love then you can heal all wounds."

* * *

Gwen carefully righted a knocked-over chair. "It will take time," she noted, surveying the damage to the room.

"Well, Merlin can take care of it," Arthur joked.

They smiled at each other, but Gwen's faded as she stepped forward. "If you want me to go, to return to Ealdor…"

"I want you to stay."

Gwen hovered, uncertain.

"Guinevere…"

"You don't have to say anything."

"What happened between us…"

"Please, Arthur, I can't forgive myself."

"I don't care."

Gwen waited, hardly daring to breathe. Arthur took her hands in his. "Guinevere, you are—you always have been—family." He smiled. "I think it's time you came home." He paused. "That is, if you still want to. We are a handful."

Gwen smiled. "Yes. Yes, with all my heart."

Arthur hugged her and spun her around, making her laugh. Merlin entered the room and leaned against the doorframe, smiling. "So, it's been decided then?" He asked.

Arthur set Gwen down and she ran over to Merlin, hugging him so fiercely that he nearly fell over. He hugged her back, smiling. "Welcome home, Gwen."

* * *

The doors to the throne room opened slowly, sweeping to the side to reveal her. She was dressed in a rich robe of purple and gold—the colors of royalty. She walked deliberately, elegantly, courtiers and knights on either side of her. Outside in the courtyard, the commoners and merchants and peasants waited with bated breath, eager to see and hear for themselves, to know if it was true.

She kneeled down on the dais steps, her head slightly bowed as Arthur approached her. He held up the thin gold chain that his mother had worn as queen. It was delicate but strong, jeweled but not gaudy, and it suited its new owner perfectly.

"By the sacred laws vested in me," he announced, "I crown you Guinevere, Crown Princess of Camelot and heir to the throne."

He placed the gold circlet upon her head and smiled down at her. Gwen gave a tiny laughing smile, slightly disbelieving, and took Arthur's hand to help her stand up. Arthur led her up the steps of the dais and turned her to face the assembled crowd.

"Long live the princess!" Arthur declared.

"Long live the princess!" The crowd chanted. "Long live the princess!"

Outside in the courtyard, the commoners went wild. "It's the Commoner Princess!" They shouted. "Long live the princess! Long live Guinevere!"

When the shouts had died down, Arthur raised his hand. "There is one more who needs to be crowned today."

Everyone fell into a confused silence. Out in the courtyard, people whispered excitedly. It might not be common news in the court just yet, but everyone in the lower town knew about the king and his manservant.

The doors opened once again and everyone turned, craning their heads to look.

It had taken some doing, but Arthur, Gwen and Gaius had combined forces to convince (force) Merlin to wear nicer clothes, and he now wore a fine suit of Camelot red. He had to force himself to walk slowly down the aisle instead of rushing the way he wanted. He didn't like everyone staring at him, but he understood the importance of ceremony. Or, rather, he understood that Arthur and everyone else in the court thought ceremony was important for some insane reason.

When he reached the dais he knelt as Gwen had done, bowing his head down. It was a good thing, because this way Arthur couldn't see his smirk.

"I am afraid that today I must confess to you a sin—the sin of deceit," Arthur began. "I have lied to my people, and for that I am truly regretful. But the time for hiding is over." He glanced down at Merlin and smiled. "The man who kneels before me now is the bravest, wisest, most dedicated person I have ever known. And I am honored to call him husband."

Arthur held up a simple gold circlet—the one that he had worn as Crown Prince. "By the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you Merlin, Prince Consort of Camelot."

Down in the courtyard, absolute madness broke out. Even the guards in charge of keeping order were shouting themselves hoarse. Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival wolf whistled and whooped as Arthur took Merlin's hand and helped him to his feet, leading him to stand at Arthur's side. Leon, a little more dignified, simply smiled and led the clapping. And from every person in the throne room and every corner of the citadel could be heard the cheer,

"Long live the kings! Long live the kings! Long live the kings!"


	37. The Issue of Dress

The King's quarters in Camelot usually looked neat and orderly. Sure, maybe it could use a sweep or sometimes the desk was strewn with papers, but generally speaking it was clean.

That morning, it rather looked like a bomb had gone off.

Clothing was everywhere—on the bed, the floor, the table, draped over the chairs—two trunks lay open near the foot of the bed, while the wardrobe was open and the insides were a complete mess. Meanwhile, in the center of the room, a contest of wills was in progress.

Simply put, Arthur thought that Merlin, now that he was officially Prince Consort, needed to update his wardrobe. And, possibly, burn his previous articles of clothing. Merlin saw it differently.

"I don't see any reason to change," Merlin argued. "I'm still practically your manservant, what with getting you dressed in the morning and all. And besides, I'd look ridiculous."

"You won't look ridiculous, you'll look dignified and like you are actually wearing the clothes that fit your station," Arthur replied. "You don't see me wearing the same two neckerchiefs every day."

"Yeah, that's because you like wearing your cape and vests, that way you can make a grand entrance," Merlin grumbled. "They're not _comfortable_, Arthur. I like my clothes!"

"What kind of impression will it give the court—and visiting nobles—if I let my husband dress like that?"

"It will give the impression that you want to live, because if you put me in that ridiculous suit I'm going to poison your chicken."

"Merlin."

"Arthur."

They glared at each other for a good minute, and then decided to settle the dispute like all logical, loving couples.

"First one to scream loses."

One hour and a set of ruined bedsheets later, Merlin won, and continued to wear whatever he pleased.

Including the neckerchiefs.


	38. Arthur's Bane Timestamp

**Arthur's Bane summed up in one sentence: Epic marital spat interspersed with sword fights.**

* * *

Someone was tugging on Arthur's arm, trying to get him to leave his cozy nest of blankets. "Arthur."

King Arthur, dignified ruler of Camelot, mumbled "nnrgh" and rolled over, choosing to ignore the someone. Whatever their reason for waking him up, it couldn't be as important as relaxing in the sheets and warm sunlight filtering in through the window.

"Arthur. Get up." This someone's voice was familiar.

The someone was climbing on top of him now, shaking his shoulders. "I swear, you're like a five year old."

Ah, yes, Arthur knew that voice. He grinned and flipped himself over, taking the someone with him and pinning them to the bed. He opened his eyes and smiled down at a less-than-pleased Merlin.

"Good morning," Arthur said. Hmm. Merlin's neck was white and bare. Somebody ought to change that.

By 'somebody', he meant himself.

"Nngh, Arthur." Merlin shoved at him. "We have to—ah—we're going to be late, dollop head!"

"Oo are," Arthur replied, trying to speak around his mouthful.

"What?"

Arthur raised his head. "Who cares? I'm the king, I arrive precisely on time." He then went back to sucking at Merlin's neck. Merlin shoved at him a few more times in a feeble attempt to stop him, but once Arthur started rocking their hips together it was all over for Merlin's self-control and he clutched at him, gasping his name.

"You're an absolute prick," Merlin panted a few minutes later, considerably rumpled.

Arthur surveyed the hickeys he had placed on Merlin's neck and congratulated himself on a job well done. "Yes, but you love me anyway."

"Unfortunately," Merlin grumbled.

Arthur nosed his way up Merlin's jaw. "Three years," he murmured. Three years since he had named Merlin his consort. Three years of being king with Merlin at his side. Three years of peace and prosperity and happiness.

"Mmm yes, and if you'd like three more then you're going to do as I say and get up," Merlin replied. He tried to sound stern but the fingers he tangled in Arthur's hair and the hand he slid down Arthur's back gave him away.

"I should just keep you tied to the bed," Arthur mused, his words slightly muffled because he kept pressing his mouth to Merlin's skin. "Have you whenever I want and I won't have to put up with your nagging once I leave the room."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You're hopeless."

"Hopelessly in love," Arthur replied, pulling back and winking.

Merlin grinned up at him. "Yeah, guess that makes two of us."

* * *

Unfortunately, it seemed that such bliss wasn't to last.

After years of silence, Morgana had returned.

They had hoped that she had died from her injuries in their last battle with her, but apparently she was now alive and well and searching for a way to discover what could kill Arthur. The past few years, it seemed, had only strengthened her hatred, adding a dash of madness as well.

On top of that, he and Merlin were fighting.

It wasn't a proper fight in the sense that they were at risk of permanently damaging their relationship, but it was definitely the longest marital spat they'd had in ages.

The thing was, something was up with Merlin. Arthur fell asleep among the bandits that night and woke up shivering, reaching for a body that wasn't there. He opened his eyes when his hands met cold air and searched for Merlin, only to find his husband still awake, staring into emptiness. He was whispering quietly to himself, but all that Arthur could catch was the phrase _never-ending cycle of his fate_.

"Merlin?" He whispered.

Merlin jumped, startled, and crawled over to him. "You all right?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

Merlin stroked his cheek, his voice soft. "Go to sleep. You need to rest up."

Arthur caught Merlin's hand. "Tell me what's wrong."

Merlin swallowed. "It's nothing. Just me being a worrywart."

It was more than that, Arthur could tell, but he couldn't press the issue right then. "All right." He released Merlin's hand and lay back down.

A smile slowly spread over Merlin's face. "There is one thing I wanted to tell you."

"What's that?"

"I was right about the clothes. They mistook me for a servant."

Arthur groaned. He'd never hear the end of it now.

* * *

Everything was (mostly) set to rights. He and Merlin had patched things up, Morgana was temporarily defeated, they were all safely back in Camelot, and they even had a new knight: Mordred, the druid boy that he and Merlin and Morgana had once rescued.

That had been back when Morgana was good, when she slept in a bed down the hall and played the part of sister before they even knew it was her role.

Mordred couldn't have been more than sixteen but he was brave and eager to learn, and Arthur looked forward to training him.

There was just one problem.

Arthur didn't know exactly what the druid prophet had told Merlin, or what the overheard _never-ending cycle of his fate_ meant, but there was a knew darkness in Merlin's eyes. There was a heaviness in his shoulders, a tightness in the line of his mouth, that hadn't been there before. Whenever Arthur tried to broach the subject Merlin brushed it off as nothing, but he could feel Merlin's eyes tracking him around whatever room he happened to be in. A few times during training Arthur would turn to find Merlin watching him fearfully, or he'd feel Merlin's hands trembling as he helped him into his armor. And at least twice during the week Arthur would wake up in the middle of the night to find Merlin resting his face on his elbow, watching him with a heartbroken expression on his face.

But whenever Arthur asked him about it, the answer was always the same.

"It's nothing, really. I just love you, that's all."


	39. Father and Son

Gaius opened the door after the first knock, raising his eyebrows. "Merlin? Aren't you supposed to be at the feast?"

"I couldn't handle it. Not right now," Merlin replied, walking in. "Not after everything." Merlin had already told Gaius all that had happened with Morgana at the mines and how Mordred had come to join their company. "I was thinking… can I have dinner with you? Just for old times' sake?"

Gaius smiled. "You are always welcome here, Merlin."

Merlin hugged him, feeling some of the tension ease out of his body. "Come on," Gaius said, leading him to the small table. "I made stew."

Merlin found himself grinning. No matter how old you got, there were some things only a parent could make better.


	40. Dancing

Whether he was standing behind Arthur's chair or sitting at Arthur's side, Merlin did not like feasts.

Everybody got drunk. Absolutely everybody. Arthur had put a stop to the whole "sleeping with maids whether they like it or not" practice, but a lot of the maids _did_ like it, and the more wine that flowed the freer everyone's libidos got. Merlin was surprised that Gwaine hadn't yet killed himself with alcohol poisoning.

Then there were the table manners. Who cared which fork went where? And who decided that the fruit came before the soup?

Incidentally, if Merlin ever discovered who thought up the idea that you had to make small talk with the person across from you, he was going to have them beheaded. And yes, he actually had that power now. Or, well, Arthur had that power. But hey, one well-timed blow job and Arthur would agree to anything.

And finally, there was the dancing. Merlin couldn't dance, and furthermore he didn't like it. He was glad that other people got enjoyment from kicking their feet up and trying to keep time to ridiculously fast music and try not to bump into people but that didn't meant they had to try and drag him into it, too. And of course Arthur just happened to be a marvelous dancer, the prat, which only made Merlin feel worse because here was another thing Arthur loved doing (like hunting) that Merlin didn't.

His usual habit, once it looked like dancing was about to begin, was to distract Arthur—usually by sliding his hand into Arthur's lap—and essentially convince Arthur to drag him into the nearest hallway and fuck him blind. Bonus, it helped cure any potential hangovers. But every once in a while Arthur would be talking with someone else, or would be out of Merlin's reach, so that when the dancing started Arthur would join in and Merlin would be stuck on the side. When that happened he usually watched for a few minutes, smiling at Arthur's laugh and his flopping hair and light feet, before slipping away to bed.

But this time, as he made for the door, someone snagged his wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?" Arthur asked, his voice low and teasing.

"Bed," Merlin replied. "You're more than welcome to come with."

Arthur glanced back at the center of the room, where Leon was twirling Gwen around and Gwaine nearly knocked a few people over in his attempts to out-dance Percival, who was managing to dance ridiculously quickly while maintaining an excellent poker face. Elyan, meanwhile, was navigating his way through several partners and charming the pants off all of them.

"You never dance," Arthur said quietly. "You always leave. Why is that?"

Merlin shrugged. "I can't dance. You know that."

Arthur seized Merlin's other wrist and pulled him away from the main hall, through a side door and onto the balcony that overlooked the courtyard. Once there he positioned Merlin's hands, one at his chest and one at his shoulder, and then slid one arm around Merlin's waist and placed his other hand right between Merlin's shoulder blades, pressing him in so that they were touching from hips to chest.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked. Arthur was using his hands at Merlin's back to press strategically, leading Merlin forward, to the left, back, to the right, and so on.

"Dancing with you," Arthur replied. They were so close that his lips brushed Merlin's cheek as he spoke.

"This isn't dancing," Merlin replied. "Not any kind that I've seen, anyway."

"Maybe it's a new kind of dance," Arthur replied. "Or maybe it's a dance you can only do alone, where other people can't see."

"I think it's a dance that you made up," Merlin accused.

"Maybe it's a dance that I want to do with you," Arthur said. "Because I like dancing, and I like holding you, and I like _you_."

Merlin could feel himself blushing and tucked in his chin to lower his face, but Arthur just chuckled and pushed them even closer together. "Stop worrying," he whispered, "And just feel."

Merlin listened to the music filtering in from the hall, and the muffled peals of laughter. He saw the moonlight, and how it sent soft silver beams of light down to light up Arthur's face, the way Arthur's eyes were the same blue velvet as the night sky. He felt the soft, cool breeze blow gently around them, ruffling their hair. And he felt Arthur's chest rising and falling against his with every breath, the soft press of Arthur's arms around him, and the trail of sensation Arthur's mouth left as it brushed against his cheeks and lips and forehead.

Merlin didn't know when he closed his eyes, but he did know when Arthur kissed him properly, licking into his mouth, pressing and pulling and stroking his tongue in the same rhythm as their shuffling feet. And then their feet weren't moving at all, because Merlin had slid his arms entirely around Arthur's neck and Arthur had wrapped his arms around Merlin completely and they were just standing there, kissing, moonlight and music their only company.

Merlin still didn't like feasts, but maybe—just maybe—he could come to like dancing a little.

A specific type of dancing, anyway.


	41. Death Song of Uther Pendragon Timestamp

He came out of the strange white-blue light, looking exactly as Arthur remembered him. "Father."

Uther Pendragon's face was a stern rock, unreadable. "Arthur."

Arthur struggled to keep his emotions under control. "I thought I would never see you again. There isn't a day that passes when I don't think of you."

"And I, you."

Arthur smiled bashfully, then cleared his throat. "There are times when I feel so alone. I wish more than anything that you were by my side."

"If I were at your side, I fear you would not like all that I have to say."

Arthur blinked and shifted his weight. "What do you mean?"

Uther's face held the look of disappointment that Arthur had seen many a time—a look he'd allowed himself to forget. "Many of the decisions you have made since you have become king go against all that I taught you."

Arthur had trained himself not to frown or how untoward emotion when his father chastised him, but the corners of his mouth tightened slightly. "I have done what I have believed to be right."

"You have ignored our tradition, our ancient laws," Uther replied. "You have allowed common men to become knights."

"They are some of the finest knights that Camelot's ever known," Arthur refuted. "They would gladly give their lives for the kingdom."

"They question your decisions. They make you look weak."

"Listening to others is a sign of strength, not weakness." Merlin had taught him that.

"How do you expect anyone to fear a king who does not know his own mind?"

Arthur frowned in earnest now. "I don't want my people to respect me because they fear me."

"Then they will not respect you at all. Your marriage should have served to form an alliance with another kingdom and you choose to marry a serving boy."

"I married for love," Arthur argued. "I love Merlin. More than I can express." He realized something. "Hang on, are you saying it's Merlin's _station_ you don't like, not his gender?"

"There are some things that are more important than love," Uther went on, ignoring Arthur's question.

"You married for love," Arthur replied.

Uther ignored the obvious hypocrisy. "As if to add insult to injury, you have allowed a serving girl to become your heir. You have broken the Pendragon bloodline."

"Guinevere will make a wise and strong queen," Arthur stated. "She is honorable and pure of heart. I can think of none other who would better succeed me."

"It is your duty to strengthen and protect the kingdom," Uther intoned. "You have failed."

Arthur swallowed, striving to keep his voice even. "I have always strived to make you proud."

"How can I be proud of a son who ignores everything that I taught him? Who is destroying my legacy?" Uther was almost sneering, and his words cut deeply.

"I have brought peace to the kingdom…"

"At what price?" Uther questioned. "The peace cannot last. If you are not strong, the kingdom will fall." He turned away. "You must go now."

"I need more time," Arthur said, faltering. "There is still so much I wish to say."

"If you stay, you will be forever trapped in the world of the dead." Uther spoke in his _do not question me_ voice. "You must go now. Go."

"This can't be the last time I will ever see you," Arthur pleaded.

"Think about everything that I have said to you," Uther told him. "It isn't too late. Now go."

Arthur turned away and began to head back, but his father called to him one last time.

"I will always love you, Arthur."

It was a condescending statement, a mark of pity after all that Uther had said before, but it was still his father. Arthur turned back and looked over his shoulder for a brief second, taking in Uther's face before stepping back into the world of the living.

"Arthur?"

Arthur blinked, feeling like he had just come out of a daze. Merlin was gripping his shoulders and peering into his face, concerned. "Do you want to talk about it? What happened at the stones?"

Arthur shrugged off Merlin's touch and started to walk back to where they'd left the horses. "It seems my father doesn't approve of the way I have chosen to rule his kingdom."

Merlin followed him. "You mean _your_ kingdom," he corrected.

Arthur kept walking. "The things he said about the knights, about having Guinevere as my heir. What if he's right? What if I have weakened Camelot?"

Merlin ran so that he passed Arthur, then turned around so that he was standing directly in Arthur's path and placing his hands on Arthur's chest to stop him. "Do you really believe that?" He asked. "You have always done what you believed to be right. People respect you."

Arthur sighed, taking Merlin's hands in his. At least this was the one thing he knew his father was wrong about. Merlin made him stronger, kinder, and wiser. He could never doubt this. "Thank you, Merlin."

Merlin smirked. "Some people still think you're a foolish, arrogant ass."

Arthur blinked. "Who?" Then he realized Merlin meant himself. "Very funny."

Merlin kissed him. "Don't lie, I'm hilarious."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Come on, we should get some sleep."

* * *

"Poetry?" Arthur hissed.

"It's slang, you idiot!" Merlin replied. "It means we're—" He made a hand gesture.

Arthur pressed his fingers to his temples. "So Leon thinks we're in here to—"

"Yes."

Arthur glared at him.

"Oh, don't give me that expression. We've had sex everywhere else in the castle, why shouldn't we do it here?"

* * *

Uther smiled coldly at Merlin. "It will give me great pleasure, killing you."

"Father!"

Arthur's voice was deep and commanding, and Uther turned in surprise. Arthur silently held up the horn.

"Arthur! No! Please," Uther pleaded. "Whatever I have done, I have done for Camelot."

"You've had your turn," Arthur said, raising the horn to his lips. "Now it's mine."

Uther gasped. "Merlin has—"

He vanished like smoke sucked up through a chimney.

Arthur dropped the horn and ran over to Merlin, yanking him free and patting him down, checking for injuries. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I think so," Merlin replied. "Nothing's broken."

Arthur kissed him, hot and filthy and slightly desperate, like teenagers sneaking out when their parents were asleep. "I woke up alone and I thought—"

Merlin grinned. "Takes a lot more than your father to get rid of me. You should know that by now."

Almost despite himself, Arthur laughed.

* * *

**Honestly, it makes so much sense. Uther attacks in ascending order according to his hatred. First a commoner knight, then Guinevere, then Merlin. Going by the creepy feeling Merlin kept getting throughout the episode, I have a feeling Uther was planning on killing him even before he learned Merlin had magic. So, why would he hate Merlin the most? Hmm, let me** **think… **


	42. Horseplay

"So," Merlin asked, "Does that mean you're not going to hit me anymore?"

Arthur paused, one of his gloves halfway on. "When do I ever hit you?"

"All the time," Merlin replied.

Arthur heaved a sigh. "That's not hitting, Merlin. That's merely friendly slaps. It's horseplay."

Merlin got that mischievous glint in his eye. "So, can I give you a friendly slap?"

"You can certainly try," Arthur replied, turning back to his armor. A moment later he felt something whack him across the back of the head. He pivoted slowly, turning to face a slightly nervous Merlin. "What the hell was that?"

Merlin swallowed. "It was, um… horseplay."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "No, Merlin, you're doing it all wrong." He pulled on his second glove and clenched his hand into a fist. "Why don't I show you?"

Merlin's eyes widened as he stared at the glove, then flicked his gaze up to Arthur.

_Gotcha_.

It was both difficult and annoying to get armor off, especially when you were in a hurry, but they managed with minimal damage to life and limb. Arthur didn't trust the durability of the walls, not after that one time, so he pushed Merlin down onto the ground. "You think you can keep quiet this time?" He asked, undoing Merlin's trousers.

Merlin bit his lip and then reluctantly shook his head.

"Right." Arthur grabbed his discarded glove. "Open."

Merlin opened his mouth obediently and let Arthur insert the glove in, biting down hard. Arthur had a feeling there'd be bite marks permanently marring the leather, and the thought made his cock twitch. Merlin tried to say something, the words obscured by the mouthful of leather, but Arthur was pretty sure he said _I don't think this falls under the definition of 'horseplay'._

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Like you were any good at it anyway."

He nicely cut off Merlin's reply by thrusting into him and making him choke on his words. Merlin's hands automatically flew to Arthur's back, nails digging in to leave small red marks that Arthur could secretly grin at in the mirror that night. Once, a few months after he and Merlin had started having sex, he'd wondered if he would ever tire of Merlin, and had fervently hoped that he wouldn't. Now, he knew better.

It was impossible to tire of him.

And while Merlin made the best noises, Arthur was finding he liked this gag option, too. Merlin made tiny little whines in the back of his throat and gave out muffled groans, his eyes rolling back into his head and his fingers sliding through the sweat on Arthur's back, marking him up. The best part, though, was when Arthur could feel his climax building, that glorious rush bare moments away, and he yanked the glove out and kissed Merlin until his head spun. Merlin made a kind of panting scream into Arthur's mouth and came hard enough to arch off the ground, shuddering violently.

"That," Merlin panted. "Was _not_ horseplay."

Arthur rolled his eyes and struggled to his feet. "Shut up and help me get back into my armor."

For the second time that day, Merlin whacked him in the back of the head.


	43. Another's Sorrow Timestamp

It was a dead end.

The path ended in a small cut away section of ground, dirt rising high on three sides to block them in. There was no way they could climb up and out, not with Odin bearing down on them.

This was the end of the line.

It was just a brief second—barely even a heartbeat—as they turned to look at each other. Odin and his men pounded up the slope, only a few dozen feet behind them.

There was no time to speak, no time even to lean forward and snag Merlin's collar, to tug him close and kiss him, feel his lips and mouth and body once, just once more, a memory to linger in his skin as he turned to meet fate.

But there were things that the eyes could say even when the body or voice could not, and a split second was all that Arthur needed.

Merlin's eyes were such a bright blue, always burning, always aflame. _I'm here,_ they said. _Always._

Arthur spun on his heel and faced Odin.


	44. The Disir First Timestamp

Arthur has always known that Merlin has magic.

It's not something that he consciously thinks about or has even considered. But there were too many odd, whispered words. Too many coincidences. Too many sudden disappearances and reappearances. Too many moments where Arthur spoke angrily of magic and its users and Merlin wasn't quick enough, hurt flashing in his eyes before he tamped it down. There were too many times when Arthur looked into Merlin's face, lips parted and face flushed with pleasure, and thought he saw Merlin's eyes change gold.

Why else would he turn to Merlin when wavering about magic's being good or bad? Why else would Merlin have such stores of knowledge about the Old Religion, its rituals and spells and curses? Why else would he know, even before he asks Merlin a question about magic, that it will hurt Merlin to answer?

But he never thinks it over. All of those facts are filed away, deep inside of him, right at the bottom of his soul where he carefully places them in a trunk and locks them, waiting for the key.

The key, in this case, being Merlin's admittance.

But Merlin will never admit it, and again, part of Arthur knows this. Merlin loves him, loves him in a way that scares Arthur sometimes, because he knows that if there was an arrow speeding toward him and Merlin had no other way, he'd jump in front and take it himself. He's already drunk poison for Arthur, back when he barely knew him and hardly liked him. He's lied and stolen and interfered and refused to interfere, all for Arthur's sake. So if Arthur's safety means lying about magic, lying about who he is, Merlin will do it.

Even if it means destroying himself.

Arthur knows this, but he knows it in the way he knows that the sun will rise in the morning: it's a fact, but one you never notice or think about. He knows it in the way he knows the angles and planes of Merlin's body, the lines of his mouth and the light in his eyes. He knows it in the way he knows when Merlin is lying, when Merlin is content, when Merlin is holding something back.

Arthur has always known that Merlin has magic.

But at the same time, he doesn't.


	45. The Disir Second Timestamp

It had been a good day. Mordred had healed marvelously, although his reflexes are a little slower than usual, and that put everyone in fantastic spirits. Training went well, dinner was delicious, and Gwaine told a joke that made Guinevere laugh so hard she snorted wine up her nose, which just made everyone laugh harder. Arthur's sides ached, but in the best way: from hard work and good food and laughter and friends.

But the moment he entered the bedroom, there was a shift. It was as if the air has become heavier, taking on a solemn atmosphere. Merlin was curled up by the fire, staring into it with an empty expression.

"Merlin?"

Arthur approached cautiously, kneeling down next to him. "Merlin?"

Merlin turned and looked up at him, and Arthur could see the faded tear tracks. He stared at Arthur as though he was looking at a ghost, or a dying man. "Kiss me."

"What?"

Merlin stood, his legs shaking. "Kiss me."

Arthur did so, soft and sweet, but when he'd finished Merlin shook his head. "No."

Arthur had bypassed confused and gone straight into worried. "What does that mean?"

Merlin inhaled shakily, his chest stuttering. "Kiss me like it's the last time you'll ever get to do it."

Questions piled up and crammed in his throat as panic rose in his chest. Was Merlin leaving him? Was someone—was Merlin dying? Why did Merlin look so empty, so hopeless?

"All right," he said, and he did as Merlin asked.

He gripped Merlin by the upper arms, squeezing as he held him in place to kiss him, desperation tinging his movements and making him a little rough, a little sloppy. Merlin clawed at his chest, seizing handfuls of Arthur's shirt and twisting them between his fingers, nearly tearing the fabric. Arthur released Merlin's arms and slid his hands around, gathering Merlin to him and kissing him deeply, consumingly, trying to crawl inside of Merlin and absorb him at the same time. He pressed a hand to the back of Merlin's head, holding him in place so he could taste him, feed off of him, pour everything he ever wanted to say, all the things he couldn't find ways to say, into Merlin.

Arthur finally pulled away, dizzy from lack of oxygen, their lips making a soft popping sound as they parted. Merlin stared up at him dazedly as if he'd been struck by lightning, tears standing in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but Arthur was already moving in. If this was the last time he got to do this, then he wanted to linger, to savor every sensation and make it last.

He led Merlin back toward the bed, kissing him slowly, deliberately. Merlin kept clutching at him, grabbing at him as if unsure how he wanted to hold onto Arthur, only that he wanted to keep him close and make him stay. Arthur crawled on top of him on the bed, Merlin's legs parting automatically to make way to cradle his hips.

"Merlin—"

"Shh, no, no, just—" Merlin's kisses became frantic, pressed repeatedly over Arthur's mouth and cheeks and nose and forehead and neck. "Keep—don't stop, please, just don't stop."

Merlin was already fumbling with their clothes, not even taking time to prep himself. Arthur caught his wrists, holding them still. "We have time," he whispered. He bumped their noses together. "It's all right, we have time."

Merlin laughed, hollow and bitter. "Do we?" He asked. "Do we?"

"Yes," Arthur promised. He forced himself to keep moving slowly, kneading every piece of Merlin's skin that he could reach. "This isn't the last time, Merlin. There will never be a last time."

Merlin grabbed him and yanked him close, forcing Arthur to only make shallow, short thrusts because Merlin wouldn't let him pull back and get leverage with his hips. Arthur kissed him over and over again, running his hands up and down his body, trying to soothe him.

When Merlin came it was with a sob, and the tears finally spilled over.

Arthur kissed them away, shushing Merlin and smoothing his hands over his skin. "There will never be a last time," he promised.

"Yes," Merlin whispered, voice broken. "Yes, there will be."


	46. Translation of Things Unsaid

"I would have you become the king you are destined to be."

Translation: I would have you be the man I know you can be.

Translation: I would have you bring freedom to the oppressed.

Translation: I would see you happy and well.

Translation: I would see you live a long and prosperous life.

Translation: I would see the prophecies of doom proven false.

Translation: I love who you were, I love who you are, and I love who you will be.

Translation: I will give my life to see you be happy.

Translation: I have always, and will always, love you completely and utterly.

Translation: My life is yours.


	47. Drinks are on the House

It was a typical evening at The Rising Sun. Elyan and Gwaine were leading the knights and townsfolk in a rousing rendition of some bawdy song about a milkmaid, Leon was sitting somberly, having given up on maintaining order but refusing to join the rabble, and Percival was carefully inspecting each pint, contemplating it like it held the answer to the mystery of life, and then downing it in one go before raising his hand for another.

The door opened, and another visitor joined the assembled company. She did not often frequent the tavern, but she was always welcome.

"Guinevere!" Gwaine shouted, walking on the tables to try and reach her.

Leon took Gwen's fingers and politely led her to an open seat, pulling out the chair. Elyan gave his sister a drunken kiss on the cheek, making a loud smacking noise, and Percival raised his glass to her.

"How are things?" Leon asked.

Gwen straightened up. "They have decided to 'consider the matter.'"

Leon, Elyan, Gwaine and Percival all groaned.

"You know what that means," Percival muttered.

"They're having marathon sex," Gwaine said, a little more loudly than he'd intended.

"I don't suppose you could keep it down," Leon said mildly.

"Better than when they're fighting and Gwen has to mediate," Elyan pointed out.

"Yes!" Gwaine stood up onto the table again, raising his tankard above his head. "I would like to propose a toast!"

Everyone in the tavern turned to look up at him. Gwaine grinned.

"To the Princess Guinevere! Someday I'm sure the bards will tell of her wisdom and strength and honor. They already tell of her great beauty. But we'll all remember her for her patience and sacrifice—nay, her martyrdom!"

"Martyrdom?" Gwen echoed.

"For it is this woman who, for some God forsaken reason, puts up with Arthur and Merlin when they're having a spat, or cranky for no good reason whatsoever—"

"Gwaine, you suggested getting them chastity belts and throwing away the key."

"—or when they're so damn horny they can't get anything done," Gwaine finished. "And so I propose this toast for the Princess Guinevere, our mediator, our go-between, and our savior from the insanity of our king and consort. To Gwen!"

"To Gwen!" The tavern echoed.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the king's chambers of the castle…

"D'you think we should tell them we know they buy Gwen drinks?" Merlin yawned.

Arthur had been petting Merlin's hair, but paused to consider the matter. Merlin made a discontented noise and draped himself more firmly over Arthur, who obligingly resumed the petting. "I don't see why we should ruin their fun."

"Good point," Merlin said. "But one day I'm going to be in there and wait for Gwaine to give one of his 'three cheers for Guinevere' speeches and I'm going to pop out of the woodwork and ask what the three cheers are for."

"Don't give him a heart attack, he's one of our best knights."

Merlin smiled. "It'll only be a little heart attack."

"You are incorrigible."


	48. The Dark Tower Timestamp

"I'm going alone," Arthur announced. There were legends about the Dark Tower for a reason, and he would not have his men risking their lives needlessly.

Everyone protested. Elyan refused to give up on his sister, Percival felt it was his duty, Leon declared that Gwen was his friend, and Gwaine reminded everyone that she was a maiden in a tower, a damsel in distress, really, there were poems about this guys, he was born for this moment.

"Fine." Arthur leveled his gaze at Merlin. "But you are going back."

"As if you could make me," Merlin said, stepping toward him.

"It's too dangerous. The future ruler of Camelot is in danger, I am the current ruler of Camelot—if all three of us die, who is left to serve the people?"

"Leon could do it."

Leon shook his head and gave Merlin a _don't you drag me into this_ look.

Arthur took a step forward. "Merlin, you are turning back."

Merlin shook his head. "I made you a promise, remember?"

Arthur felt Merlin's hands tangle with his and squeeze gently. He tried to remain a stern face but failed, smiling as he brought a finger up to trace the line of Merlin's cheekbone. "What am I ever going to do with you?" He whispered.

Merlin just smiled back.


	49. The Hollow Queen Timestamp

**I realized I've been giving you a lot of Merlin worrying over Arthur, so have some of the flip side.**

* * *

Merlin had been gone for two days—gone without a word, without so much as a note. It wasn't like him to up and leave like that. In fact, Arthur realized, it wasn't like Merlin to voluntarily leave Camelot at all if Arthur wasn't with him. Where Arthur went, Merlin went, and on the rare occasion Merlin was left or fell behind, he hurried after Arthur as fast as his legs or horse could carry him.

"It's not like him, Gaius," Arthur said, pacing about the room. "And he didn't say anything to you?"

"No, nothing at all," Gaius said. "I hate to raise alarm, but I should think it's time we sent someone out."

Guinevere entered the room just in time to hear the tail end of Gaius's statement. "Oh no." She bit her lip. "Oh, I knew I should have said something."

Arthur pivoted. "You know where Merlin is?"

Gwen nodded. "I'm sorry, but he asked me not to tell, and I thought—well, but if you're really that worried…"

"Spit it out."

"He's gone to visit someone," Gwen began.

Let it be stated that Arthur, by nature, was not a jealous person. He'd never had real occasion to be. If he wanted something, he got it, and he could rest well knowing that nobody would be stupid enough to take it from him. If it was a matter of someone being a better swordsman or something of that sort, well, Uther had trained all self-pity out of him by the age of ten. If he wanted to be the best arm-wrestler in the country or what have you, he put his mind to it and he subsequently reached his goal. In matters of fickle emotions, again, he had never had cause to be envious of someone else. He'd never deeply cared for anyone other than Morgana and Uther, and he'd never had to fear the loss of their affection (Uther didn't give out much anyway), and when Merlin came along his devotion was so absolute that Arthur knew anyone trying to steal Merlin away would actually have more to worry about from Merlin himself than Arthur.

But now, unexpectedly, jealousy raged hot and bubbling in his veins. Unaccustomed to it as he was, Arthur was completely floored. Vanishing without a word, making Arthur worry sick about him, and he was _visiting someone_? Red tinged the edges of his vision and his stomach churned, his blood singing at him to act, to fight, to kill.

"…he's gone to see Hunith, actually," Gwen finished up.

The jealousy vanished, blown away like smoke, but it left behind a bitter aftertaste. "Hunith?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes. I'm so sorry to have let you worry like this. I should have told you sooner."

Arthur frowned. He was glad to know that Merlin was safe and sound, but why would he visit Hunith without telling Arthur—or inviting him to come along, for that matter?

* * *

He wanted to demand answers the second Merlin returned (looking oddly pale, actually) but Arthur waited until the whole political mess had been cleaned up and dinner had been set. He even let Merlin babble on about politics. The only time Merlin showed any interest in matters of state, it seemed, would be when Arthur's life was or had been threatened.

"I know an attempted assassination isn't usually a good thing," Merlin said, "But today it worked in your favor. Amata is now a part of Camelot."

"Things are going remarkably well," Arthur mused. "Peace with Odin, a strengthened alliance with Nemeth and Caerleon—"

"Is it true that Annis wants to make you her heir?"

"She has no sons to succeed her," Arthur admitted. "But it was only a tentative suggestion. She has many fine warriors that advise her, and she will live for many more years, I'm sure."

"Gawant is loyal, always has been—you really should think about taking down Essetir, by the way, Lot's far weaker than Cenred—Southron is yours as well, and everyone practically claims the Perilous Lands as yours since you retrieved the Fisher King's trident, plus Lady Catrina's former lands. And the Five Kingdom alliance remains secure, as well. All the smaller kingdoms owe us allegiance, we might as well rule them. Do we have a good enough excuse to make war on Alined yet?"

"Merlin, at this rate you'll have me be king of all of Albion."

"Well…" Merlin took a bite of chicken to avoid answering. "The title High King would suit you rather well, wouldn't it?"

Arthur glared at him. For all Merlin claimed to know nothing of state matters, he was oddly determined to raise (and praise) Arthur as high as he could get away with. The thing was, he was right. It was only a matter of time before Lot and Alined waged war on Camelot, either together or separately, and Arthur had spent the last three years preparing for it by making alliances with the smaller kingdoms such as Tir-Mor, offering protection and aid in exchange for assistance such Lot or Alined attack. He had no doubts that he would win and claim their lands for Camelot, should that day come. Olaf, Godwyn, Annis and Rodor were the only rulers left that Arthur trusted, of the four of them three had daughters and Annis herself had admitted she was getting on. If Annis did leave her kingdom to Arthur, as she had indeed suggested in her most recent correspondence, then one day Guinevere would inherit the largest kingdom Albion had ever seen.

"Besides, if the rumors are true than Nemeth and Gawant are going to be one kingdom soon," Merlin went on.

Arthur choked on his grape. "What?"

"Didn't you hear? Elena and Mithian are said to be getting on remarkably well."

Arthur decided it was time to change the subject. "And did you hear of this rumor on your trip to see Hunith?"

Merlin stared. "What?"

"Gwen told me all about it, Merlin. Why didn't you ask me to come along? I love seeing Hunith as much as you do."

Merlin opened his mouth, closed it, made a choking noise, and repeated the process. Arthur sighed. "You weren't visiting Hunith, were you."

Merlin shook his head.

"Why would Gwen lie about that?"

"She didn't!" Merlin said quickly. "I lied to her."

"And why on earth would you do that?"

Merlin twisted his napkin around. "I was helping someone. Their sister had the sweating sickness."

Arthur leaned his elbow on the table, raising his eyebrows. "And you couldn't have just had them see Gaius or, I don't know, told me where you were going?"

Merlin bit his lip, his eyes darting around guiltily, and then the whole story came pouring out. About halfway through Arthur's limbs started twitching and he got up to pace, just to give his body something to do.

"You're not angry, are you?" Merlin asked when he'd finished, gazing up at Arthur with his damned blue eyes.

"With you? No." Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "The druids are now protected, yes, but there is still much stigma against them and the practice of magic is still forbidden. I can see why you felt secrecy was best."

"But you are angry."

Arthur rounded on him. "Morgana tried to kill you! She left you for dead in the forest!"

"She tried to kill you too!" Merlin replied, standing up. "You were in just as much danger as I was!"

"No," Arthur growled. "This is between her, and me. You never did her any wrongs. You are not a part of this."

"She seems to think I am."

"She can attack me all she likes, she can hate Camelot all she likes, but she can't—the people I love, she—" Arthur found his words spilling out of him in spurts, uncontrollable and loaded with more emotion than he generally cared to exhibit.

"Arthur…" Merlin stood in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"She hurt you because she knows, she knows how I feel about you. If I lost—" Arthur broke off, unable to finish. Merlin kept staring at him, eyes bright and expression knowing. "I can't handle that," Arthur finally whispered miserably. "I can't have you hurt because of me, simply because I love you."

"Morgana is insane, Arthur. She's consumed with rage. There's no reasoning with someone like that. If I were to die—"

"Don't you _dare_—"

"If I were to die," Merlin repeated, relentless, "It would not be your fault. Loving someone is hardly a crime."

Arthur drew him in and held him, his arms wrapping around as far as they could go. He felt Merlin's clothing, worn butter-soft from so much use; felt the skin underneath, pale and smooth; felt the muscles underneath the skin, wiry and surprisingly firm. He pressed his face into the side of Merlin's head, buried it in Merlin's hair, breathed in the smell of him. Jealousy grew in his stomach and spilled over, boiling like a poisonous gas, seeping up through his veins and getting into every part of him, making him seethe. He was jealous of everything and nothing, of the million things and the hateful person that could possibly take Merlin from him, claim him in a way different but no yet permanent from Arthur's own claim.

He was jealous of Death itself.


	50. Matchmaking: Or, Managing Your Husband

Uther had prepared Arthur for many things. A king had a myriad of responsibilities, from keeping the people fed to managing the kingdom's finances to alliances with other nations to training the knights. But for all of his harsh counseling, there was one thing that Uther had neglected to warn Arthur about.

Paperwork.

"I swear, I do more writing than the damn bookkeeper," Arthur complained. He had to pen a letter to Annis concerning the heirdom, he had to write another letter to Elena to see if her father's condition was serious enough to warrant a deathbed visit (or, if Arthur didn't make it in time, a condolences visit slash endorse Elena's coronation visit), he had to read and sign off on all the checklists for the food storehouses for winter, approve the guild renewal applications, sign a few contracts, and read Leon's dull as dirt reports.

"How come Leon gets all the boring reports?" Arthur asked.

"Everyone else refuses to do them," Merlin replied.

Merlin, the traitor, was lounging in front of the fire in nothing but his nightclothes while reading a book on Rome. Arthur glared at him. Merlin completely ignored the glare, but it made Arthur feel a little better before he returned to the mountain of paperwork.

"Speaking of Leon," Merlin continued. "He doesn't have a girl, does he?"

"I don't think so, Gwaine would have told me by now," Arthur replied. Gwaine was the biggest gossip in Camelot.

"And Gwen's not sweet on anyone, is she?"

"Merlin, I don't think people use the term 'sweet on' anymore," Arthur said. "But for the record, no."

"Great."

Arthur recognized the tone in Merlin's voice and looked up, but Merlin was innocently concentrating on his book. "Merlin, what are you up to?"

"Up to? Me?"

Arthur glared again. "What are you planning that involves Leon and Gwen?"

Merlin grinned. "Exactly that. Leon and Gwen."

"Are you serious? Or just drunk?"

"Both," Merlin replied. "I've been thinking about this for a while."

"Merlin, it's absolutely insane."

Merlin carefully set his book down and made his way over to Arthur's desk. He took Arthur's hand in both of his and drew him to his feet. "They're perfectly suited for each other."

Arthur frowned, but let Merlin slip his arms around his waist. "They'll kill you if they find out you're trying to set them up."

"But they won't," Merlin said, kissing Arthur's neck right where it merged with his shoulder. "Find out, I mean."

"But—"

"And they do deserve someone," Merlin went on, kissing Arthur's jaw. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Arthur would have admitted that yes, both Leon and Guinevere deserved someone to have and to hold, but Merlin kissed him and Arthur found that his tongue was otherwise occupied for the next few minutes.

"It won't take much," Merlin said when they broke apart. Arthur was somehow lying face up on the bed, his shirt off, with Merlin lavishing attention on his chest—and swiftly moving downward. "You'll help, won't you?"

Contrary to whatever Merlin said, Arthur knew when a battle was lost. "Yes," he gasped out.

Merlin smiled, his face hovering just a few inches from Arthur's lap. "Excellent."

Arthur found himself saying _yes _many more times over the course of the next half hour.


	51. With All My Heart Timestamp

**I have a very close relationship with my siblings, so I'm a sucker for close sibling relationships and the idea that it's not only romantic love that can save the day.**

* * *

Arthur hadn't been sure what to expect when Merlin told him to get into his armor, follow him, and stop asking questions. It probably had something to do with Leon and Gwen—Merlin was unusually interested in the development of their relationship. Arthur took the view that if they were going to fall in love they could do it on their own time and without interference from friends, well-meaning though it might be. After all, nobody had interfered when Merlin and Arthur were fumbling their way through things.

All right, nobody had interfered _much_.

But whatever Arthur had possibly expected, it certainly wasn't this.

He gripped the handle of his sword tightly, pressing back against the tree as he began to unsheathe Excalibur.

"Arthur, don't," Merlin warned. "Morgana's too powerful. Now is not the time."

"How could she do this?" Arthur demanded, glancing over at where Gwen stood with Morgana, betraying everything Arthur had ever believed her to stand for.

"That's not the Gwen we know and love," Merlin replied. "She has fallen prey to a dark and powerful magic."

"We have to get her back," Arthur growled. "First you and now Gwen. I can't lose my family, Merlin."

"And you won't," Merlin replied. "We'll get her back, Arthur, I promise."

* * *

Guinevere entered her room that night filled with thoughts of revenge.

And then she saw what was on the table.

Peering around to see that nobody was in the room, she undid her cloak and walked over to the table. On it lay a single rose.

It was predictably adorable and romantic but Gwen's stomach fluttered and her cheeks warmed, a smile growing on her face.

"Do you like it?" Leon asked, hovering in the doorway.

Gwen turned around, stroking the petals with the tips of her fingers. "I love it."

"Merlin had to help me pick it out," Leon admitted, entering the room properly. "I know nothing about where flowers grow."

"But the thought was sweet," Gwen replied. She approached him, a small smile on her face. It was so strange—most of the time she was consumed with thoughts of hate for Arthur, her mind darting from one plan to the next, wondering how to best secure Morgana her throne. But when with Leon, such thoughts fell away. She almost felt like the serving girl from years ago, young and unaware of just how carefree and simple her life was. Leon wasn't one for star-crossed love or sweeping romance, but he was noble and thoughtful and just a little shy and Gwen lo—liked him immensely.

To think, they had known one another all of these years, and it had taken Arthur's near death experience to bring them together. Gwen had bee faking tears for Arthur, sobbing about how she loved him so, he was such a brother to her, how could Camelot go on without him. Leon had been watching over Arthur and, upon hearing Gwen's staged pleas, had given her such a passionate speech about her leadership skills and her ability to rule Camelot that Gwen had forgotten to keep crying. Everyone knew that should Arthur die it would be Gwen ascending to the throne, not Merlin. Aside from the fact that he'd keel over and die just to follow Arthur to the afterlife, Merlin had no wish to be king. But Leon's speech had held more than simple loyalty. When he had finished, Gwen found herself staring at him and wondering if she had ever truly seen him before. A thousand moments had flashed through her mind—dancing with Leon at the feast, sitting next to him at the tavern, speaking with him when Morgana and Morgause took over Camelot—and she felt like an utter fool.

"Sir Leon," she had said, "Your loyalty is admirable, but where does such belief in me stem from?"

In response, he had kissed her.

He kissed her now, too, just the once before stepping back. "I should begin patrol."

Gwen nodded, the smile refusing to come off her face no matter how she struggled. "Be careful."

She set the rose in a vase, right in the middle of the table.

* * *

"Leon."

To his credit, Sir Leon didn't jump. "Sire?" He asked, turning to see not just Arthur but Merlin as well, staring him down.

"Do you love Gwen?"

Arthur turned to Merlin. "Yes, let's be subtle about it, shall we?"

Merlin glared right back at Arthur. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we had loads of time to waste."

"Is something wrong?" Leon asked.

Arthur shoved Merlin behind him, ignoring Merlin's squawk of disapproval. "Merlin and I couldn't help but notice the, uh, changed nature of your relationship with Guinevere, and we wanted to make sure that your intentions were honorable."

Leon shifted a little, unconsciously going into a neutral fighting stance. "Not that it's any of your business," he began, "But I understand that she is family to you."

Merlin nodded encouragingly.

"I have known Guinevere since she was born. Our mothers were close friends, despite their difference in status. Gwen's mother was, in fact, the ladies' maid to my mother. Our home is rather isolated—as I'm sure you know, my lord—and there were no other children to play with. Gwen and I grew up together." Leon paused. "I cannot think of a time when I did not love her."

"Are you telling me," Arthur said incredulously, "That you loved her while she was with Lancelot and you didn't say anything?"

Leon shrugged. "I want her to be happy."

"I'm much too jealous for that," Merlin admitted.

"Yes," Arthur grumbled, "We've noticed."

"And does she care for you?" Merlin asked.

"I hope so," Leon answered. "She seems to welcome my attentions."

"Interesting," Merlin said, adopting his suspiciously deep thinking look. Such looks usually preceded an insane plan or odd scrap of knowledge that ended up paying off, even if it defied all logic._  
_

"Will that be all?" Leon asked. "Sire?"

"I'm going to ignore the sarcasm in your tone," Arthur replied. "Because I've just made you late for patrol."

After Leon left, Merlin rounded on Arthur. "You see?"

"No, I don't see," Arthur replied. "What on earth does Gwen's relationship with Leon have to do with Morgana?"

Merlin didn't call Arthur a dunce, but he might as well have for the expression his face made. "It shows that Gwen is still capable of love."

"What if she's just using Leon?"

"I think she would have done so by now. She's had plenty of opportunity since the last time she tried to get you killed. And besides, Leon has always put loyalty to the crown first. I bet if you were to marry Gwen he wouldn't even say a word. It's how he is. If Gwen was going to seduce one of your knights she'd be better off with Gwaine."

"Which means…"

"It means that she can still love, Arthur," Merlin said. "It means that deep down, she is still our Gwen. And that means that there is hope."

* * *

"Can't Leon just do it?" Arthur asked. Riding a horse with an unconscious Guinevere draped over it was proving to be more difficult than he'd anticipated.

"No," Merlin said. "It has to be you. You're the center of her false hatred."

"What on earth am I going to say to her to get her to go in?"

Merlin shrugged. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

* * *

Guinevere stirred slowly, rising from drugged slumber and gazing around her. She took in the lake, and Mordred in his armor, the Dolma, and finally Arthur, and scrambled to her feet with a shriek of hatred. "Where am I?" She demanded. "What have you done to me?"

"You've been asleep for a long time," Arthur said, trying to soothe her and taking a step forward.

Gwen reared back as if he touch would burn her. "Get away from me!"

"Guinevere," Arthur said. "Our Guinevere. Sister."

"Your Guinevere?" Gwen laughed. "You stupid, foolish man. I was never your family and I never will be."

"You must reach her, Arthur," The Dolma instructed. "Reach her or all is lost."

"Who's this old crone?" Gwen demanded.

"You called me family once," Arthur said, ignoring Gwen's question. He had to reach her.

"You are easily fooled, Arthur," Gwen sneered.

"And still do."

"It was a trick. Nothing more. A subterfuge to pass Camelot to its rightful Queen."

Arthur grabbed Gwen by the arms. "I don't believe that."

Gwen struggled, writhing like a fish caught on a hook. Her eyes bored hatefully up into Arthur's face. "Believe what you like, the fact remains."

Arthur began to drag Gwen to the pool, thinking to hell with this, he was far stronger than she was, he could throw her in easy as anything—

"No!" The Dolma cried. "It must be of her own free will!"

Arthur pulled Gwen into him. "Look at me. Tell me that we are not family."

"Let me go!" Gwen squirmed, pinned by his gaze.

"Arthur!" The Dolma warned.

"You are my sister," Arthur said. "In every way that matters. I love you, Guinevere. Merlin loves you. Leon loves you. The people love you. No matter what you do or say that isn't changing. And maybe I didn't make it clear enough before, maybe I should have said it more often. But you are our family, Guinevere. That is never changing, no matter what you do." He paused. "You remember what you said when I asked you to stay, to be my heir and a part of our family? Remember what you said when I asked you to come home?"

Gwen stared up at him, frozen.

"You said, 'with all my heart'," Arthur recalled. "That's what you said, Guinevere. That was no subterfuge. No trickery."

He took a step backward, releasing Gwen and extending his hand to her. "With all my heart."

He walked slowly backward towards the lake as Gwen stood transfixed, watching him. "With all my heart," he repeated.

Arthur entered the lake, his arm still extended.

Gwen stared at his hand, and then looked up into his face. Then she spoke, softly, "With all my heart."

Arthur reached out further. "Come."

Gwen placed her hand in Arthur's and stepped into the water.

"_Yfel gaest, ga thu fram thisselichaman. Bith hire mod eft freo. Ar ond heofonutungol sceal thurhswithan_," the Dolma chanted, her eyes glowing gold.

A white light surrounded Gwen as she lowered herself into the lake, momentarily obscuring her from view. The light seemed to settle into her, soaking into her skin, dimming until it vanished altogether.

Guinevere turned, saw Arthur, and smiled. She held out her arms, sniffling a little, like a child. Arthur waded in and picked her up, hugging her, and Gwen clung to him. And she whispered, "Brother."

* * *

"So," Merlin said, rubbing his hands together. "How soon can we plan the wedding?"

"Merlin!" Arthur chastised.

"What?" Merlin blinked innocently. "Now that Gwen's back I have to make up for lost time. Say, Gwen, is Leon a good kisser?"

Gwen just laughed. "You have no right to tease, Merlin, not after all you two have put me through with your forgetting to lock doors and missing council meetings."

"Fair point." Merlin grinned. "It's good to have you back, Gwen. We missed you."

Gwen smiled. "And I, you." Her smile turned wicked. "Can't get by without my best friend to tease, can I?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Why do I put up with you two?"

In the back of the group, Mordred just smirked.

* * *

**Who thinks Mordred spent the entire time with the Dolma trying not to laugh at Merlin? *raises hand***


	52. Kindness of Strangers First Timestamp

It amazed Merlin that Arthur thought he was actually still asleep. Really, the idiot didn't even seem to understand what the definition of whispering was. He'd been awake from the second Gwen had snuck into the room to converse with Arthur.

Smelling hot fresh bread and deciding it was time to 'wake up', Merlin began to stir.

"Shh!" Arthur hissed. "He's waking up!"

Gwen bolted out of sight. Merlin sat up and blinked, trying to look dazed and sleepy. Arthur was standing in front of him with a tray, on which sat a lovely breakfast and—Merlin was going to murder Gwen in the slowest, most painful way he could think up—a massive bouquet of flowers.

"What's all this?"

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, helping Merlin settle the tray into his lap. "It's the first part of your anniversary present."

Merlin pointed his fork at Arthur warningly. "If the second part is jewelry, Arthur, I swear—"

Arthur held his hands up. "No jewelry. I learned that last time."

Last time, Arthur had tried to give Merlin a rather large gold necklace. One wrestling session later wherein Merlin might have used a bit of sneaky magic, Arthur found the necklace around his wrists, where it then wrapped several times around the headboard and kept him pinned there.

That had been a lovely anniversary.

(The necklace had then 'accidentally' ended up in the melting pot in Elyan's forge.)

"Thank you for breakfast, Gwen," Merlin called.

There was the sound of curtains rustling. Arthur glared in the general direction of Gwen's hiding place and then looked back at Merlin. "It was my idea."

Merlin just smiled. "I'm sure it was."

Arthur rolled his eyes and moved the tray out of the way, sliding over and cupping Merlin's cheek with his hand. "You certainly won't thank her for this," he whispered, sliding his tongue into Merlin's mouth and kissing him until Merlin was weak in the knees—which wasn't fair because Merlin was sitting down.

"What's the rest of my present, then?" Merlin asked when he'd gotten his breath back, letting Arthur steal some bread from his tray.

Arthur just grinned. "You'll find out."

* * *

"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?" Merlin asked, wondering what they were doing that would require riding horses to get there.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" Arthur replied.

"On what?"

"On remembering our anniversary."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Arthur, I reminded you last month."

"Yes, but I remembered after that."

"Hmm, yes, and Gwen didn't help in the slightest."

"Gwen and Leon and Gwaine and Gaius and Percival and Mordred," Arthur admitted. "I couldn't turn around without one of them reminding me, and Mordred wasn't even at the bloody ceremony."

Merlin just laughed.

* * *

"This really is the perfect spot," Arthur said, dismounting and gazing around at the clearing. "Is it not?"

"It's a picnic!" Merlin said. "I knew it! Honestly, Arthur, you couldn't think of something new?"

Arthur seemed to decide that flattery was the best policy and waited for Merlin to dismount before approaching him. "Sometimes I forget how beautiful Camelot is," he brushed their lips together, "But never how beautiful you are."

Merlin snorted. "You are so full of it."

Arthur kissed him. "No mocking the king. There is a special punishment reserved for such imprudence."

"If it's as good as the last punishment, I don't see any reason to stop."

"Now you're the one who's full of it."

They set up the picnic together, with Arthur dragging Merlin down onto the blanket as soon as it was set up. "We still have to get the rest of the things out!" Merlin protested, halfheartedly struggling as Arthur rolled them so that Merlin was straddling him, hands on his chest to brace himself.

"That can wait," Arthur replied. He paused. "Do you remember the first picnic I took you out on?"

Merlin smiled and waggled the fingers on his left hand, the dragon ring seeming to ripple and curl around his finger like a living creature. "How could I forget?"

Arthur caught his hand and pressed his lips to Merlin's knuckles. Merlin swatted playfully at him, calling him a sap, and Arthur retaliated by rolling them again so he could pin Merlin to the ground and kiss him properly.

"I'd say the day was near perfect, wouldn't you?" Arthur asked later in the afternoon, as they packed up.

"If I say yes, you're going to preen for hours," Merlin replied. "But yes. I agree."

Arthur grinned, his cheeks reddening a little. "Here, catch."

Merlin missed.

Arthur sighed. "I think our dog catches better than you."

"That's because you treat him better," Merlin called out, searching through the bushes. Something at the base of a tree caught his eye and he froze, staring at it.

"Are you blind?" Arthur asked, coming up behind him.

"Something happened here." Merlin pointed at the scorched, clawing marks on the tree.

It was about that moment the day went from nearly perfect to pretty harrowing.


	53. Kindness of Strangers Second Timestamp

Merlin understands his destiny now.

It is not the destiny of one who would save the world. It is not the destiny of one who will end the darkness or bring about enlightenment.

He is not even destined to help unite Albion.

He has been lied to—by those who knew his fate and those who honestly thought they were telling him the truth. He is too burdened, too heavy with dread and despair to find any anger. He has been told for years that he is to help Arthur unite Albion, to restore magic and bring about a great new age.

It is all a lie.

But he knows the truth now. The prophecy that Finna entrusted to him as finally divulged his true destiny. It might not seem like much to those burdened with the fate of kingdoms or great magical prowess or anything like that, but Merlin knows that it is the most horrible destiny anyone could be bestowed.

His destiny is to watch the one he loves die.

And he dares anyone who has ever loved another to think of a destiny more horrendous than that.


	54. The Drawing of the Dark Timestamp

Arthur is worried about Merlin.

He's talked to Gaius, but the physician says that Merlin is not sick. He is not insane, and he is not under the influence of sorcery. Nobody else seems to really notice. Gwaine says Merlin seems normal enough, and Percival agrees. Leon suggests that maybe Arthur is just being overprotective. Mordred says that Merlin has always carried a burden on his shoulders, but he doesn't think it's gotten any worse as of late.

Gwen says that Merlin is just worried about Arthur.

But 'worried' doesn't cover what Merlin is. This is deeper than that. It's like there is a disease eating away at Merlin's insides, and Arthur is helpless to stop it.

And then Mordred betrays them.

Arthur knows that it is his fault, no matter what Merlin says. The girl was a fanatic, tried and hanged for her crime of murder. Magic doesn't even come into it. But Mordred is young, no more than sixteen, and he is in love in that stupid, passionate, all-consuming way that teenagers have. Arthur can sympathize, can picture all too well how hard and desperately he'd have fallen for Merlin if his husband had waltzed into his life when he was sixteen instead of twenty.

Well, he fell hard and desperately anyway, but that's not the point. It was a different love, anyway, more tempered, more durable.

But Mordred cannot see that. He can only see his current heartbreak, and his blood runs hot.

Arthur should have reached him. He should have explained himself better. He should have done… something.

When Arthur comes to bed that night, all it takes is pulling back the covers for Merlin to jump him. He clings to Arthur, holding onto him, his entire body trembling.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asks. He settles them down on the bed, gives Merlin's shaking body a solid form to lie on. If he didn't know any better he'd say Merlin as having some kind of seizure.

"You have to stop going out to battle," Merlin whispers. His fingers trace the lines of Arthur's face, his eyes darting wildly about, taking in Arthur like it's the last time he'll ever see him. "You need to stay here, where it's safe."

"Merlin, you know I can't just abandon my men and expect them to fight all my battles for me. This is between me and Morgana. It's important that I ride out with my knights."

Merlin shakes his head, makes a wounded noise like an animal with its leg caught in a steel trap. "No."

"I'll come back," Arthur promises. He smoothes his hands over Merlin's skin. "I always come back."

"No." Merlin's voice is barely audible, hoarse and insubstantial. Arthur suddenly realizes that Merlin has been crying. He wonders for how long. "You can't promise that, Arthur."

"Yes, I can."

"So you know what the future holds?" Merlin's voice holds humor, but it is bitter and black. "You can tell me what will happen next?"

"No," Arthur admits. "Do you?"

Merlin doesn't answer, simply draws Arthur to him.

Later that night Arthur pulls Merlin's back to his chest, curling around him, trying to shelter him from whatever nightmares Merlin seems to see. Merlin presses Arthur's hand, his left hand, to his lips, keeps it there, whispers _don't leave me, don't leave me, please don't leave me_ over and over again into the skin and the silver and gold ring wrapped around his ring finger, the words still illegible in their ancient script but their meaning burned into Arthur's soul.

Arthur holds him, holds him so tightly he fears bruising in the morning, but he doesn't lessen his grip. He isn't worried about Merlin now. He is outright scared for him. He is scared that he is losing Merlin, not to Morgana or disease or an accident, but to Merlin's own treacherous mind.

He fears that Merlin is breaking down.


	55. Strip Dice

**This was supposed to be smut and went sideways. Oops.**

* * *

War had been raging in Camelot for weeks, but in the Rising Sun, such matters were temporarily forgotten. The knights were all pleasantly drunk, they were actually getting to spend time with Arthur that didn't involve killing people or discussing killing people and best of all, Merlin seemed his old self again.

It had been a harrowing couple of weeks. Merlin never said or did anything too out of the ordinary, but he hovered around Arthur even more than usual. He obviously wasn't sleeping—the dark circles under his eyes gave that game away—and he hardly touched his food. Arthur had gone into full protective mode: keeping an eye on Merlin at all times, drawing him in and whispering soothingly to him, forcing him to eat something, and holding him at night. He would have ordered the knights to make sure that Merlin was never left alone, but Merlin was always at Arthur's side so that was already dealt with. Arthur had even become more affectionate among others: holding Merlin's hand or pausing to press a kiss to the underside of Merlin's jaw as they walked through the hallways, placing a hand on Merlin's knee when they sat together at the round table, and generally touching Merlin every time he could get away with it.

But as the days passed and Arthur remained hale and hearty, Merlin seemed to lighten up. It was gradual, and suffered a few setbacks, but now he was smiling and laughing along with everyone else. This in turn made Arthur more spirited, more carefree, and the evening had been the best any of them had in ages.

"Three," Arthur said, throwing the dice.

Everyone on his side of the table, including Percival and Leon, led the cheers. Arthur grinned at Merlin. "Feel free to retire anytime."

"Likewise."

"It's no disgrace for a man to lose to his king," Arthur said.

"And it's no disgrace for a man to lose to his spouse," Merlin replied. Over on Merlin's side of the table, Gwen and Gwaine made 'ooh' noises at Arthur. Both of them were fairly sloshed.

Merlin threw a handful of silver coins onto the table. Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Watch out, here we go."

Merlin put the dice into the cup, picked it up and shook his, blowing on it. His eyes flashed gold and he threw the dice. "Ten."

Everyone looked at the coins, saw that Merlin had guessed right, and Merlin's side of the table erupted into cheers. Merlin swept the coins to his side of the table, winking at Arthur. Arthur leaned in, voice low. "Enjoy this moment, Merlin… while it lasts." He picked up his cup of dice and shook it. "Twelve."

Merlin faked a cough to cover up his burst of magic, and Arthur rolled a four.

The tavern was filled with noises of either teasing or disappointment. Arthur glared at Merlin. "You put me off."

"What are you talking about?" Merlin looked the picture of innocence.

"You just coughed."

Percival glanced between them, and Gwaine laughed uproariously, certain in that moment it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He ended up choking a little and Gwen and Leon had to slap him repeatedly on the back.

"I was clearing my throat," Merlin said, pointing at the offending part of his anatomy.

It probably didn't help that there was a faded hickey just below his Adam's apple.

"You just coughed," Arthur repeated. "Deliberately."

Merlin kept his face deadpan. "I knew you'd discover my secret in the end." His eyes glowed bright with mischief. "There's just no fooling you, my _lord_." Arthur kept his poker face. Merlin smirked. "Right."

He began picking up his coins one by one and stacking them carefully in the middle of the table. Finally he picked up the last one, contemplated it, and then threw it in with the others.

"It's like that, is it?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded.

Arthur swept his coins into the middle. Merlin picked up the cup with the dice, their eyes locking. Arthur didn't look away as Merlin shook the dice. He brought the cup to his mouth and blew on it, his eyes flashing gold.

Arthur was still staring at him.

Merlin threw the dice onto the table. "Twelve."

Gwen leaned over and saw the dice. "Twelve!" She crowed.

The tavern erupted.

Merlin grinned at Arthur as he took hold of his winnings.

Arthur's face remained unreadable.

* * *

"You did cheat," Arthur said, his voice muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head. He'd refused to get a new manservant once Merlin was his official consort, partly because Merlin refused to let anyone else be that intimate with Arthur and partly because it wouldn't have felt right to have anyone but Merlin helping him. Merlin refused to have a manservant because he _knew how to take care of himself, thank you, unlike certain clot poles around here_. Over time, Arthur had become a bit more self-sufficient, to the extent that he could do some of his dressing himself.

Combing his hair was still beyond his abilities.

"I did not," Merlin replied. Arthur frowned down at his hands, which were refusing to leave his shirt sleeves. Merlin came over and grabbed Arthur's wrists, holding them up so Arthur could see as Merlin undid the wrist cuffs. Arthur pouted.

"Then how do you explain your lucky streak?"

"Maybe because, I dunno, it's a game of luck?" Merlin replied. "Look, why don't you just admit that you didn't like losing in front of everyone?"

"That's not the problem," Arthur replied.

"So there is a problem," Merlin said, grinning.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, contemplating. "You said it as all luck."

"Yup."

"And you didn't cheat."

"Nope."

A grin slowly stole over Arthur's features. "Then you won't mind a little… private game, would you?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Are you saying what I think you are?"

Arthur went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a cup and set of dice, shaking them at Merlin teasingly.

"You're not going to lose more money to me, are you?"

"I was thinking we could make the stakes a little more interesting."

"Such as?" Merlin asked, approaching him.

Arthur indicated his shirt, which was still partially on. "Clothes."

* * *

"Five."

So far they had been pretty evenly matched. Merlin now wore nothing but his trousers, while Arthur had on his socks and sleep shirt but nothing else. Arthur threw the dice, which decided they didn't like him and ended up as an eight.

Merlin smirked. Arthur took off his socks.

"I still say you were cheating," Arthur said as Merlin picked up the cup.

"Whatever soothes your pride," Merlin replied, blowing on the cup and throwing the dice. Arthur watched Merlin's eyes carefully. "Ten."

It was Arthur's turn to smirk when the dice gave Merlin a seven.

"Pants it is, Merlin," Arthur drawled.

"You've still got your shirt, that's not fair," Merlin said, shimmying out of his trousers.

Arthur stared up at him, the pale skin and long lines of his body, and decided that he'd won the game anyway so why not move on to more important things?

* * *

Arthur leaned on his elbow, watching Merlin as he slept. Merlin's lashes were long and sweeping across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted and his skin pale. Arthur could see new worry lines at the corners of Merlin's eyes and mouth, some of which definitely weren't there a few weeks ago. Merlin's eyes, as could be expected for someone sleeping, were closed, the bright blue hidden.

Well, normally they were bright blue.

Arthur pressed his palm to Merlin's cheek, cupping his face gently and stroking the corner of Merlin's mouth with his thumb. "Do you have any idea?" He whispered. "Any idea what you mean to me?"

Merlin mumbled Arthur's name in his sleep, curling in closer to Arthur, seeking his warmth and touch even in slumber.

"You did cheat at dice, earlier," Arthur whispered. He knew.

He knew because when staring into Merlin's eyes during the winning throw, he had seen them flash gold.


	56. The Diamond of the Day First Timestamp

**I don't know how I managed to write this. Let's just say many boxes of Kleenex gave their lives for this chapter.**

* * *

Merlin finished packing up the bedroll. "I think you'll find everything you need."

"Impressive," Arthur said, frowning at the neatly ordered collection of supplies on the table. "Very impressive. Not from you, anyway."

"Thanks," Merlin said, deadpanning.

Arthur folded his arms. "All right, what are you after?"

"After?"

"Come on, Merlin. You were the worst servant in the history of the world and you only got worse once the sex started. Now suddenly this. What do you want?"

"Nothing," Merlin replied. "I just wanted to make sure you had all you needed for your journey to Camlann. For the days ahead."

"Thank you." Arthur walked over to Merlin, hands raising to pull him in, but then he paused. "Merlin. What do you mean, _my_ journey."

Merlin took a deep breath, keeping his hands firmly behind his back so he wouldn't be tempted to reach out to him. "I'm afraid I won't be coming with you. Not this time." Arthur opened his mouth and took a half step forward, ready to protest, and Merlin hurried on. "I'm sorry. I have an urgent errand to run for Gaius. Vital supplies that I can't attain here."

"Vital supplies?" Merlin could see that Arthur didn't believe him.

"Yes, it's—"

"No, no it's fine," Arthur cut him off, the hurt plain in his face. "It's fine, I understand."

"Arthur…"

Arthur had been avoiding Merlin's face, but now he looked straight into his eyes. Merlin could see that Arthur's eyes were shining oddly, the way they always did when he was trying not to let tears spill over. "You know, Merlin, all those jokes about you being a coward… I never really meant any of them. I always thought you were the bravest man I ever met." His tone grew bitter. "Guess I was wrong."

Arthur swept out of the room before Merlin could reply.

Merlin knew that he'd only said it because he was hurt and surprised. Merlin had always followed Arthur, had promised to always follow Arthur, and Arthur had come to take it for granted. He knew that this was the climactic battle, and whether he would admit it or not Arthur knew it too, and would turn to Merlin for support. Merlin had given his love repeatedly, and Arthur had come to lean upon it. Now that Merlin would not be there he was lost, and Merlin wished with everything he had that he could change things.

But he needed his magic back. He had no hope of saving Arthur without it.

It all boiled down to that, didn't it?

Love, and love, and love, and love.

* * *

"Arthur!"

Arthur frowned as he saw Gwen coming up. "Guinevere. What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

"The battlefield is no place for the heir to the throne. If I die, and you die, then who will rule?"

"I have no intention of joining you in the battle itself, I assure you," Gwen said, readying her saddle. "But if these are to be your last days, then I would rather spend them with my family then waiting here for those that may never return."

Arthur hugged her. It wasn't Merlin, but Gwen could still provide support.

* * *

Arthur sat at the table in his tent, thinking. He knew he should have been readying his mind for battle, but his thoughts were far away. Where was Merlin? Could he possibly return before the battle?

Would he ever see him again?

Gwen entered the tent, frowning when she saw Arthur's untouched dinner. "What is it?"

Arthur quickly schooled his thoughts away, as Uther had taught him. "What if Sir Leon was right? Perhaps we should've made our stand at Camelot."

Gwen moved forward and placed her splayed hands on the table. "Your plan is brave and bold, and our only chance of defeating Morgana once and for all. Yes, we could of held out at the Citadel, but for how long? And at what cost to the kingdom? I have never for a moment doubted the valor and wisdom of this choice."

Arthur stood and walked over to her, taking her hands in his. "You know that I appreciate every bit of respect that you give me. If you don't doubt me, than I see no reason to doubt myself."

"Merlin does not doubt you either," Gwen said softly. "Remember that."

Arthur turned his face away, afraid of what she would see. "I know that."

"He would be here if he could."

"I know."

Gwen sighed and tugged on his hands. "Come. You should rest."

He let her lead him to the bed and crawled in, with Gwen taking up a post on the chair next to it. "Sleep. I'll wake you when it's time."

Arthur nodded, and tried to rest.

* * *

Images flashed through the crystal. Some showed what had already passed, some showed things yet to come. Merlin sorted through them desperately, trying to find the present moment.

Trying to find Arthur.

"Arthur," he whispered, his eyes glowing gold as he waded through the flashing images. "Where are you?"

The images parted, as if by a wave of the hand, and Merlin saw him.

Arthur was sleeping on his camp bed, the one put in his tent when he was out on a battle campaign. Merlin recognized the shape of the headboard and the color of the sheets, white embroidered with gold. Arthur slept fitfully, one of his arms stretched out, a hand clenching and unclenching as it searched for someone who was not there. Gwen sat curled in a chair by the bed, her head resting on her chin, a book in her lap as she dozed.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered. "Arthur, I'm sorry I had to leave you. I didn't want to. I hope one day you'll understand why." He swallowed down his explanations, his declarations of emotion. Now was not the time. "Your plan is a good one and you may yet save this kingdom, but you must army's flank is vulnerable. There's an old path over the ridge of Camlann, and Morgana knows of it. She means to trap you, Arthur. Find the path or the battle will be over before it's begun." Merlin's voice rose. "Find the path!"

Arthur awoke with a start. "Merlin!"

Gwen started awake, the book falling off her lap. "What's the matter?"

Arthur looked around himself confusedly. "Merlin."

Gwen leaned over, putting her hand on his shoulder. "It was just a dream." Despite her hopes and Gwaine's insistence that Merlin would return, the prince consort had yet to arrive.

"Didn't feel like a dream," Arthur said. "It felt…"

He jumped up and ran out of the tent, leaving a confused and worried Guinevere behind.

It was the last time she would ever see him.

* * *

The battle was raging hot, and Arthur was unsure of victory. Their foes were many, they were closed in, and now they had a dragon attacking them.

There was a crack of lightning and all the men around Arthur went flying. They were dead before they hit the ground.

Arthur looked up, toward the crest of the cliffs.

An old man—the one who had once called himself Dragoon the Great—stood at the top, a staff held aloft in his hand. It was from his staff that the rods of lightning crackled, destroying anyone who came close to Arthur. The white dragon swooped down again, prepared to attack, but the sorcerer boomed out a command in dragon speak and she halted, her fiery breath dying.

Dragon speak…

Arthur squinted, trying to get a better look at the sorcerer. The puzzle pieces were there, all there—if he could just—

But there was no time. Not right then.

Arthur hoisted Excalibur above his head. "For the love of Camelot!" He shouted, charging forward.

* * *

"Guinevere!" Leon burst into the hospital tent, seizing her hands. "The battle is won. The Saxons are in full retreat. They're making for the hills. I've dispatched 200 men to drive our advantage home."

Gwen hugged him, laughing with disbelief. "We've won!" She repeated in a whisper.

Leon kissed her, dipping her slightly, and several patients in the tent whooped.

They parted, smiling. "How is everyone?"

"Percival's fine. Gwaine's still, well, Gwaine."

"And Arthur?"

Leon's face fell. "We're still looking."

Gwen stumbled back a step, bracing herself on a table. She looked over at Gaius, and then at Leon. "But if he's—then I—"

"Don't despair just yet," Leon advised. "We'll keep looking."

Gwen nodded. "Thank you." Leon took a step toward her but she held up her hand. "I'll need fresh water as well," she said.

A knight ran to fetch it for her. Leon took her hand in his and kissed it gently. "You will make a fine queen some day."

Gwen drew herself up. "I pray today is not that day."

* * *

Merlin was terrified that Arthur wouldn't wake up.

He had used magic to carry Arthur away from the battlefield, through the wetlands to the forest, and Arthur hadn't once stirred. Now he sat with his back to him, afraid at what he'd find if he looked again.

"Merlin?"

Merlin jumped and turned around. Arthur was staring at him through feverish eyes, cloudy and confused. Merlin hurried over to him. "How are you feeling?"

Arthur tried to sit up and gasped in pain, grabbing Merlin's shoulder.

"Lie back," Merlin said, helping him back down. "Lie back." He pushed Arthur's hair away from his forehead, feeling how hot the fever raged.

"Where have you been?" Arthur asked, still holding him in a death grip.

"It doesn't matter now," Merlin soothed. He gently eased Arthur's fingers off of him, kissing the gloved hands.

"My side…" Arthur said, trying to get a good look.

"It's bleeding," Merlin said, carefully keeping his tone neutral.

"Oh, good," Arthur quipped, grimacing through the pain. "I thought I was dying."

"I'm sorry." Merlin swallowed, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of his voice. "I thought I'd defied the prophecy." He looked down at Arthur's hands, running his thumb over the knuckles. "I thought I was in time."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head, ashamed of the tears that threatened to leak out. "I defeated the Saxons. The dragon. And yet… and yet I _knew_ that it was Mordred I must stop."

Arthur reached up and gently wiped a few stray tears away. The action made him grunt in pain. "The person who defeated them was the sorcerer."

Yet the moment he said it, he knew that was wrong. It was right, but it was also… incomplete. Arthur gazed up into Merlin's grieving face.

And the puzzle pieces finally fell into place.

"It was me," Merlin confessed, crying in earnest. He gripped Arthur's wrist tightly, terrified that Arthur would pull away.

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur said faintly. "This is stupid, how could you say that?"

"I'm a…" Merlin couldn't finish the sentence. He took a heaving breath and tried again. "I'm a sorcerer. I have magic." He looked up at Arthur, begging him to understand. "And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you."

"Merlin, you are not a sorcerer. I would know!" He had to know. This was his husband, the person he shared a bedroom, a life… _everything_ with. How could he not know?

"Look, here." Merlin turned toward the fire and stretched out his hand. "_Upastige draca!_"

Some of the flames separated from the rest and took a new shape, turning into a tiny dragon before falling away.

Merlin looked back at Arthur, who stared at where the flame dragon had been. He didn't… how had he not known?

And yet he had known, in some way. He had suspected it in earnest since the night of the dice—he had _seen_ Merlin's eyes flash gold but he hadn't wanted to believe, hadn't trusted his instincts because he didn't want… Merlin wouldn't lie, Merlin never lied to him, how could—he couldn't—

"Leave me."

Merlin made a choking sound. Arthur had heard that noise before, on the battlefield. It was the sound of someone being run straight through. "Arthur—"

"No." Arthur closed his eyes. He couldn't look at Merlin's face. If he did, his resolve would crumble. "Just…" He swallowed. "You heard! Just…"

He couldn't complete the sentence, and so simply turned his face away.

Merlin got up and moved without a word, walking away into the forest.

Arthur pretended not to hear the faint scream that echoed out minutes later.

* * *

Thing was, Arthur knew that Merlin knew that Arthur was only pretending to sleep. But neither of them said anything. Merlin, from what Arthur could sense, seemed to be alternating between constantly checking on Arthur and forcing himself not to look at Arthur at all. Arthur, for his part, mastered the art of faking sleep.

It was like a horrible children's game: see who cracked first.

The second Merlin took off, Arthur opened his eyes and grabbed Gaius's robe. "He's a sorcerer."

Gaius's face said it all. Arthur sank back against the ground. "You knew."

"Arthur, he is your husband."

"I want him gone."

They both knew that Arthur didn't mean it.

"There is no need to fear him," Gaius replied.

"Have him take word to Camelot. To Guinevere." Gwen would be worried sick about the both of them.

"You cannot send Merlin. I will go."

"I need a physician right now, not a sorcerer."

"He can do far more than me, far more than you can ever imagine. Arthur, he doesn't just have magic…" Gaius paused. "There are those who say he's the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth."

Arthur gaped up at him in disbelief. "Merlin?"

"If you are to stand any chance of survival, you'll need Merlin to help you, not me."

Arthur looked over at where Merlin was feeding Gaius's horse, stroking its nose and murmuring to it. He was the man that Arthur had married: kind and loyal and selfless and understanding and far, far more in love with Arthur than Arthur deserved.

And yet… he wasn't the same man at all.

* * *

"Arthur?"

It was the first time Merlin had spoken to him since Arthur had dismissed him the night before. He reluctantly turned his head to face him. Merlin flinched at whatever he saw in Arthur's gaze, but he stood strong. "We need to leave at first light."

"I'll decide."

"I can't let you die," Merlin burst out, his eyes wet. He turned away, and Arthur could see his chest slowly expand as he took a calming breath.

"It doesn't change anything," Arthur replied.

Merlin simply walked out into the darkened forest.

* * *

Merlin helped Arthur get up onto his horse, tying him in place. It made Arthur feel like an infant, but Merlin's expression as he settled him in, avoiding his gaze, made Arthur keep his mouth shut.

"Gaius," Arthur called.

Gaius approached hesitantly, most likely afraid that Arthur would try and convince him to take Merlin's place. Instead, Arthur reached up and took off his necklace. He looked up and saw Merlin watching him, and knew that Merlin knew what Arthur was doing. Staring at Arthur's hands, Merlin nodded.

Arthur turned to Gaius and handed him the necklace. "Give this to Guinevere."

Gaius stared down at it. "This is the royal seal, sire."

"If I am to die, I can think of no one who I would rather succeed me." The matter had been settled long ago, but it felt good to say those words. Gwen would make a great queen. The bards would sing many a tale about her.

Gaius laid his hand over Arthur's and nodded his head.

It was the last time that Arthur ever saw Gaius.

Arthur did not know this, but it was the last time that Gaius ever saw Merlin, either.

* * *

Merlin supported Arthur's head, trying to get him to eat some soup. Arthur ignored the food. He didn't need it anyway. He could feel how heavy his limbs were, how his body felt strangely cold.

He didn't tell Merlin any of this.

"This will be good for you," Merlin insisted. "You need to eat."

Arthur stared up at him. "Why are you doing this? Why are you still caring for me?"

Merlin set the spoon back in its bowl. "It's my destiny. As it has been since the day we met."

Arthur frowned. "I tried to take your head off with a mace."

"And I stopped you, using magic."

Arthur wasn't sure if he should laugh or be outraged. "You cheated!"

"You were going to kill me."

"I should've," Arthur grumbled.

He'd meant it as a joke, a part of the nostalgia as they recalled the not-so-illustrious beginning of their relationship, but Merlin took it differently and all the mirth fled his face. "I'm glad you didn't. I do this because of who you are_._" Arthur stared at him. "Without you, Camelot's nothing."

"There was a time when that was true. Not now. There are many who can fill the crown."

Merlin shook his head, his voice thick. "There will never be another like you, Arthur." He looked down at the soup. "Now, I also do this…" He looked up. "Because I love you, and I can't stand to lose you."

Arthur tried to speak, but his throat closed up with unshed tears.

He looked away instead.

* * *

Arthur collapsed against the tree and Merlin raced to him, waterskin in hand. "Arthur, you need to hold on. One more day." He threw Arthur's arm over his shoulder and supported him as he helped Arthur drink from the waterskin. "One more day."

"Why… did you never tell me?" Arthur asked.

"I wanted to," Merlin admitted. "But…"

"What?"

"You'd have chopped my head off."

It was a valid argument. Arthur considered what he might have done, had he known. "I'm not sure what I would have done." He'd have had to uphold the law, but he would have wanted to save the man he loved.

It was Morded and his druid girl all over again, except Merlin hadn't killed anyone, had never done anything out of hate.

"That's what worried you?"

"Some men are born to plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others to be great kings. Me, I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that. And I wouldn't change a thing."

Arthur stared up at Merlin, dumbfounded. How could Merlin say those things, talk about his devotion like it was nothing?

"Ready?" Merlin asked.

Arthur felt like his world had turned upside down.

* * *

There was a fire going, but Arthur couldn't feel it.

There was a log at his back. He could feel that.

Merlin helped him drink some water. It wasn't cool and refreshing, but instead strangely numbing. He drank obediently anyway.

"Merlin, whatever happens…"

"Shh." Merlin kissed his forehead. All the Arthur had just put him through, and yet he still bestowed him with gestures of love. "Don't talk."

"I'm the king, Merlin," Arthur said, just to save face. "You can't tell me what to do."

"I always have," Merlin replied, forcing humor into his tone. "I'm not going to change now."

"I don't want you to change," Arthur admitted. "I want you… to always… be you." Breathing hurt, as did talking. "I'm sorry about how I treated you. I should have… trusted you." He tried raising his left hand but failed. Merlin caught it anyway, holding it to his chest. "You're… what it says. On my ring. My…"

Darkness closed around him, swift and silent, and he passed out.

Merlin checked his pulse. It was unsteady and sluggish, but it was still there. He kissed Arthur on the cheek. "Get some sleep."

* * *

Arthur staggered along. His limbs—he couldn't feel them. He could hardly feel anything. They couldn't hold him, he—

"Come on, we have to make it to the lake."

Arthur fell on top of Merlin, sending them both sprawling. It made the ever-present pain in his gut spike. It was time. The end was near. "Merlin…" He gasped, the pain making his body come alive again momentarily. "Not without the horses. We can't, it's too late. It's too late."

"No." Merlin tried to shove Arthur off him, get up, and carry Arthur all at the same time.

"All your magic, Merlin, can't save my life," Arthur informed him, knowing it was true.

Merlin shifted so that he was sitting up, Arthur's head on his shoulder, Arthur's body draped in his lap. "I can. I'm not going to lose you."

"Just, just hold me," Arthur begged. "Please."

Merlin stopped trying to get up and wrapped his arms around Arthur instead, cradling him. He stroked his cheek, and Arthur let out a sigh of relief that he could still feel it. Merlin's body was solid and warm against his, and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine they were back at home. Home, in Camelot.

Camelot.

He would never see it again.

"There's something I want to say."

Merlin was crying again. His tears were falling on Arthur's face. "You're not going to say goodbye."

"No, Merlin…" Arthur managed to bump his nose against Merlin's neck, a parody of the nuzzles he usually bestowed. "Everything you've done. I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build…"

Merlin sniffled. "You'd have done it without me."

"Maybe." Arthur could feel the darkness sneaking over him again, as unstoppable as nightfall. "I love you."

"I know," Merlin sobbed. "I know, I know, I love you too, I love—"

"I want to say, something I've never said to you before…" Arthur could hardly see. His vision was dimming, narrowing until he could only see Merlin's face. He reached up and brushed his knuckles against Merlin's cheekbone. "Thank you."

The last thing he heard were Merlin's screams.

But the last thing he felt was a brush of lips.

First on his forehead, and then pressed against his own. They were warm, and soft, and he clung to them.

And then all was nothing.


	57. The Diamond of the Day Second Timestamp

Guinevere sat on the throne, Arthur's crown heavy upon her head. She was not cut out for this. She had never been cut out for this, she was a serving girl, the daughter of a blacksmith. The royal seal felt like a pound of lead in her hand. How could anyone, least of all Arthur, have thought her worthy of this.

Arthur.

Guinevere looked over at Sir Leon, standing at her side.

Arthur had believed in her.

Now Arthur was dead.

Merlin had believed in her.

Merlin was now missing.

They had trusted her, and she would not break that trust. She never had, not for anything, and she never would.

Guinevere gave Sir Leon a slight nod. Leon turned to the crowd. Sir Percival stood at the front, silent as the grave. He had returned, told of what he had found—of Gwaine's death, Morgana's body and Merlin's disappearance—and had not said a word since.

"The king is dead," Sir Leon said.

Guinevere looked over at Gaius, who nodded solemnly. Arthur was dead. And Merlin would never return.

"Long live the queen!"

"Long live the queen!" The people chanted. Their sorrow was heavy, but they were joyful to welcome Guinevere as their ruler, so their cries were sincere. "Long live the queen! Long live the queen! Long live the queen!"

Guinevere surveyed her subjects now standing before her.

She would make her family proud.

* * *

As one might well imagine, Sir Leon and Queen Guinevere were married. It took them a year to get around to it, since all of Camelot was in mourning for Arthur and Merlin, the latter of whom still had not been seen.

Guinevere was known as the Commoner Queen, beloved by all. She united many of the smaller kingdoms under the banner of Camelot, and did indeed inherit Queen Annis's lands after the great woman's passing.

Princess Elena and Princess Mithian, known as the Light Queen and the Dark Queen respectively, joined their kingdoms into one when they joined their hearts.

Queen Vivian, known as the Golden Queen, managed to settle down and stop looking down her nose at everyone in time to become the fourth of what were known as the Great Queens.

Guinevere had three children: Elyan, Arthur and Merlin.

Merlin was a girl.

Guinevere thought the original Merlin wouldn't mind too much.

Gaius saw Merlin once more, on his deathbed. As did Guinevere, and Leon, and Percival. They all said that he looked as though he hadn't aged a day.

And he hadn't.

And so peace reigned throughout Albion for many years.

But war did come again, as war always does. It was not to arrive in Albion until after Guinevere and Leon and all the rest had since passed away, but it did arrive. With it, all records were destroyed. People were scattered. Families were torn apart. Castles were burnt down.

And so history warped and twisted itself, passing from mouth to mouth until it morphed into myth and legend. The story of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, and of Merlin, the greatest wizard of them all, was never forgotten. But it was not remembered properly, either.

Until many years later.

When King Arthur woke up.


	58. Imaginary Friend

Arthur has an imaginary friend.

He's not like most imaginary friends—or at least Arthur _thinks_ it's a he. He doesn't know for sure, because he never sees his imaginary friend.

His imaginary friend is invisible.

He's been there for as long as Arthur can remember. In fact, if he could remember being born he's sure he'd remember his imaginary friend being there too.

He calls his imaginary friend _Emrys_.

It's a name that came to him in a dream. He has funny dreams sometimes. He's always back in the Middle Ages, which he likes, and he always has a sword, which he also likes. But he can't remember any people.

The worst one is where he wanders through a castle. He knows the castle, every bit of it, but no matter how much he searches he can never find anyone. He's in an empty castle, all alone.

But it's all right. Whenever he wakes up, scared, Emrys is there. He can feel him, just out of reach, all comforting and strong, and Arthur knows nothing will hurt him, not with Emrys there.

He tries telling Father about it, but Father just gets angry and tells him that the Prince of Wales does _not_ have an imaginary friend.

He tells his sister, though. His sister is very understanding. Sometimes, he thinks she's too understanding, because she looks at him with her big gray-dark-amber eyes and there is so much sadness and regret in them that he's not sure she's not secretly a thousand years old.

But his sister is also very smart (and a whole year older) and she tells him to stop talking about Emrys.

"People won't understand," she tells him. "They'll think you're making it up."

So he stops talking about it.

After a while, he forgets about Emrys. He has a lot to learn as the future King of England (unless Father decides to live forever). He's first in line because his sister is only his half sister. She has a different father. So she can't be queen. Which she says is fine, she doesn't want to be queen, she tried that once and it didn't work out.

Arthur's sister is very strange sometimes, but he loves her anyway.

A little while after he starts to forget about Emrys, Emrys stops showing up. Arthur doesn't notice at first. He's too busy with public appearances and lessons and being shunted from one place to another and dealing with Father and trying to be the good kid because the position of disobedient kid is already filled by his sister.

But then he does notice. And he's sad. He knows it's his fault. He pushed Emrys away. He stopped caring. He cries for hours after that, and his dreams are full of strange and horrible creatures, and a woman's cruel laugh. He's scared, really scared, for the first time in his life and he cried out instinctively and suddenly Emrys is there. Arthur can't feel Emrys the way he can feel his sister when they smack each other or hug each other but he can still feel in a different way. And Arthur feels safe, because he knows nothing will hurt him. Not with Emrys there.

Emrys doesn't stay all the time like when Arthur was little. Arthur understands. He has to be an adult, and adults do things differently. But whenever he's feeling hopeless, like when he's sixteen and he realizes that he thinks boys are just as attractive as girls and he wouldn't mind kissing one, and he nearly throws up because he knows Father will never understand—Emrys is there.

Or when he's eighteen and he just knows he's flunked his test, and he doesn't ever want to leave this bathroom stall, really, he's just fine dying slowly in here—Emrys is there.

And now he's twenty one. He's officially, well, an adult. It's his coming of age ceremony or whatever Father feels like calling it.

Arthur looks at himself in the mirror. He looks great, he knows. The red tie is out of the ordinary but it'll definitely draw the eye and who said men had to wear all-black, anyway?

He feels like vomiting, or maybe running away and living as a hermit up in the hills of Scotland.

Arthur clears his throat. He's never done this before, but then Emrys has never taken this long to show up before.

"Emrys?"

He has never, not once, talked to his imaginary friend. He's called him _Emrys_ plenty of times, but only in his head or the one time when he told his sister about it. He's certainly never had a conversation with Emrys before.

"Listen, I know you're there. Somehow." Arthur stares at himself in the mirror, resolute but terrified of what he'll see when he turns around—if it'll be a horrendous dark faerie like in his sister's childhood books or, even worse, nothing at all.

"I want to see you. Please."

Still nothing.

Arthur sighs. "Look, it's my twenty-first. The whole world is staring at me. Father expects me to be—I don't even know anymore. Someone I'm not. I don't know who I am, I haven't got a clue where to start, but I sure know what I'm not and that's Father's clone. I just… you're always here, always there for me when I need you, and I need you now."

Arthur can feel something behind him—a presence.

He wants more than just a presence.

"I know you're not really invisible. I want to see you."

Something in the air shifts subtly, and Arthur heaves a relieved sigh. "Thank you."

There's a startled hitch of breath, like… like someone hearing a ghost speak.

Arthur turns around.

A young man of about Arthur's age is standing in front of him. He's wearing jeans and a dark shirt and two handkerchiefs, one on each wrist: blue and red. He's got a necklace on which hang two rings. One is silver and rather simple. The other is also silver, but with a gold band on either side, and strange runes carved into it. It looks like very ancient writing. And on the ring finger of the man's left hand is a third ring. It's a massive, silvery dragon ring, and it's quite possibly the greatest piece of jewelry Arthur has ever seen—and that includes the crown jewels. Whoever carved that ring was a master.

The man has very dark, sort of floppy hair, an angular face—an angular body, really—a slightly pointed chin, disarmingly large ears, a somber mouth and bright, blazing blue eyes. The man looks young, but like his sister there is so much sadness and regret in those eyes. He looks like he has had all of history placed upon his thin shoulders, and Arthur wants to take that misery away from him.

Arthur feels like he's back in his old nightmare about the empty castle, only this time he found what he was looking for.

"Who are you?" Arthur asks, even though it's a silly question because he knows who it is, it's Emrys.

"You call me Emrys, and that is one of my names," the young man replies, "But it's not my original name."

"And what's that?"

"Merlin."

Arthur feels a brush of lips. First on his forehead, and then pressed against his own. They were warm, and soft, and he clung to them.

And then all was nothing.

And he remembers.

"Merlin?" His voice is a whisper.

Merlin stares at him with that stupid, ridiculous, wonderful idiotic look of gaping surprise. "What?" His voice is rather strangled.

Arthur crosses the few feet between them, wrapping his arms around Merlin, kissing him for all he's worth. He can't even think properly, his only thought being _this, this, this._ Merlin can't stop touching him everywhere, his hands pressing and sliding and fluttering from place to place, and Arthur realizes that Merlin spent twenty one years waiting, wanting but unable to take, to touch.

"I missed you," Arthur admits, his mouth brushing against Merlin's because that's as far as he can stand to be apart from him right now.

Merlin lets out a strangled sob. "I missed you for a thousand years, you clot pole!"

And Arthur laughs, and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him again.


	59. Reunion

Empires rise and fall. Wars are lost and won. People are born and die.

And Merlin watches.

He is a watcher now. His heart is on the Isle of Avalon, and it hurts too much to take it out so he leaves it there.

He watches Gwen become Guinevere, the Commoner Queen. He watches the Great Queens, the High Queens, rule over Albion. He watches peace and prosperity reign.

He watches Gaius die.

He watches Percival die.

He watches Guinevere die.

He watches Leon die last of all, because Leon was as close to immortal as any ordinary man could get.

He is not a watcher then. For each of them he becomes Merlin again, just for a few minutes. Just so that he might say goodbye.

And Merlin waits.

He waits while Albion, England, Britain goes through trial after trial, passing through the fire in a hundred baptisms. He waits while tyrants carve out rivers of blood and the world goes to war again and again. He waits as danger and destruction raises its head and is defeated so that it becomes dormant once more.

He does not fight in the wars.

He works as a physician and nurse, healing others through what medicine can do and what medicine can't. He is careful with his magic. He watched as magic died, and he knows that he is the last of his kind. He has seen what people do to one another because they can't handle someone with different colored skin. He can't imagine what they'd do if they knew that magic was real.

He studies a lot. He goes to university again and again in his true form, his young form. He doesn't make friends. He can't bear to watch them die. But he learns a lot about science and history and literature. The science helps him in his study of magic.

He writes his own book.

He never shows it to anyone. Nobody could make sense of the spells in it anyway. But it's nice to have everything in one place, organized and set down on paper.

Gaius would be proud.

Sometimes Merlin fears that the spell will wear off. It was the biggest and most complicated spell he had ever cast. It was made on the thinnest of hopes, cast on the shakiest of knowledge.

Merlin bound his life to Arthur's.

He saved Arthur from death, but Arthur now sleeps, only to wake when it is Albion, England, Britain's hour of greatest need. And until that time, Merlin will not change. He ages only when he wants to, as a temporary spell. He is no older in form than he was on the day he said goodbye to the man he loves.

At first, he is hopeful.

Then, he is despondent.

He reads tales of King Arthur of Camelot and his Knights of the Round Table. It's a fascinating look at how time warps the truth of things.

For instance, Lancelot now has a son named Galahad. The Cup of Life is what Merlin assumes was the inspiration for the Holy Grail Quest. Gwaine is now Morgause's son and has three brothers, one of whom is named Agravaine. Merlin is portrayed as an old man, and it makes him laugh that his disguise worked so well as to permeate the ages. Mordred is the son of Arthur and Morgause, which would make him laugh if it didn't hurt so much. Sir Leon, Elyan and Gaius aren't even in the story, and Guinevere has been made a princess from birth.

There are a lot of changes, enough to make Merlin bitter. But he's bitter enough already. He has too many regrets to count, and he can't afford another one. He should have taken Morgana into his confidence, shown her his magic and told her about her own. Or he should have let her die. He should have trusted Mordred completely, humbly accepted the druid boy's admiration and extended the same to him. Or he should never have rescued him and let him die back when he was a child.

So many choices. So many wrong turns.

He has all but resigned himself to a fate of living forever, and is contemplating journeying to the Isle of Avalon himself and just lying beside his husband's corpse for all eternity, when he hears the news.

"The royal couple have had a baby! It's a boy!"

The king and queen have been trying for years, with no success. There has been talk of the king adopting his stepdaughter so that she can rule if no blood heirs come along. But now, there is nothing but tribulation.

"What's his name?" One bystander asks another.

"Arthur," the second bystander says. "They named him after that one king, of Camelot. His name is Arthur."

The feeling is so foreign that at first Merlin doesn't even know what the strange sensation is, but then he remembers.

It's hope.

* * *

He knows that he shouldn't but he can't help himself.

He perfected an invisibility spell years ago (it would have been very helpful back in the Camelot days, but oh well) and getting past the security systems is laughably easy.

He sneaks past the sleeping king (the queen is still in the hospital—she will die the next day) and peeks in on the infant.

He's adorable, and innocent, and Merlin can already see the resemblance.

"Arthur," he whispers.

The baby coos in his sleep.

* * *

He watches over Arthur for years. At first he lets Arthur feel his presence, even if the boy can't see him, but then he realizes what a danger that is. It's not right for Arthur to sense him like this. He could be sent to a mental ward, or worse. So Merlin retreats, only returning when Arthur is in such pain that Merlin can't stand to have him feel alone. He makes his presence known, wishing that he could simply hold Arthur like in the old days, in that past life. But his simple act of being there seems to soothe the young prince, and that is enough for now.

And then Arthur's twenty first birthday arrives. And he calls out, "Emrys."

Merlin has no idea how Arthur heard that name, but there is no doubt who he is asking for.

Arthur begs for Emrys to show himself. That he needs Emrys. Please.

Merlin could never refuse Arthur anything.

"Thank you," Arthur says, and Merlin's breath hitches. It's the last thing Arthur ever said to him, and Merlin just barely stops the tears from flowing.

Arthur turns, and at first he simply takes Merlin in. There's something hungry in his gaze—not predatory, exactly. More like a bookworm seeing the New York City Central Library for the first time, or a soldier coming home after war.

Then something changes in Arthur's expression. It's like wonder and hope and astonishment and sadness and euphoria all combined into one confused look and Merlin doesn't even have the time to decipher it because Arthur _says his name_ and launches himself at him, wraps his arms around him and kisses him, and Merlin is lost, lost, lost all over again.

"I missed you," Arthur says, and Merlin's heart cracks and gushes, truly _feeling_ for the first time in centuries.

"I missed you for a thousand years, you clot pole!" Merlin squawks, but he lets Arthur kiss him again, and again, and again.

And again.


	60. You're the Voice

Arthur, Crown Prince of Wales, closed the door of his bedroom behind him and promptly collapsed against it. "I refuse to be king."

Merlin was, as usual, lounging on the bed and reading a book, a pair of earphones on. Merlin didn't like earbuds—said they made his ears hurt—so he wore the huge earphones that covered an entire side of his face. Arthur peeked at the cover of the book. It seemed to be something about physics. "I don't think your father would like that much," Merlin said, turning a page idly. "He's already looking for an excuse to throw me out, I think your abdication would be the last straw."

"Can't you just take us to a tropical island in the middle of nowhere?"

"No running water, no shelter, no food service…"

"You could magic something up."

"See, this is why I didn't tell you about my magic. You'd have abused it shamefully."

Arthur flopped onto the bed and draped an arm over Merlin's waist, drawing him in and nosing at the back of Merlin's neck. Just touching Merlin was enough to ease the tension out of Arthur's body, making him feel relaxed and pliant. Merlin sank back into him, letting Arthur manhandle him into the most comfortable position.

"Missed you," Arthur murmured. He tried reading Merlin's book over his shoulder, realized he didn't understand half the words, and gave up. "Politics have only gotten worse since Camelot and now you're not there to make faces at me."

"The Versailles Treaty was nearly enough to kill me. I'd keel over if you made me sit in on those talks with you."

It had taken a bit of negotiating to get to where they were now. They'd been so wrapped up in each other, so overwhelmed with joy and loss, that they'd completely forgotten an outside world even existed.

They'd been reminded of it about ten rounds of sex later, when someone was sent to find out why Arthur was several hours late to his own birthday party.

After that there had been several painful discussions with the king, several changes to protocol, and Merlin was moved into Arthur's section of Buckingham (or Windsor or wherever Arthur was currently staying). Between the two of them they'd made up a plausible story about Arthur meeting Merlin at a pub one night and having a one night stand that led to something a little more. Merlin had grown up in the south of England, raised by a single mother, and was studying science at university. When asked which field of science he was studying, Merlin simply replied, "All of them."

Arthur could believe it, too. Merlin had been too smart for his own good back in Camelot, and he'd had hundreds of years to study science and medicine and all the rest.

Overall it had been a bit of a rocky start. They were constantly in the press, everyone from LGBT groups to the Church of England wanted them to make a statement, and they still didn't know what the great danger was that Arthur had been resurrected for, but Arthur wouldn't trade any of it for the world. He had his memories back—and more importantly, he had Merlin.

He didn't know what else he could ask for.

Arthur lay there for a while, dozing, content with simply having Merlin in his arms, when he heard something. He sat up. "Merlin," he asked, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. "What are you listening to?"

"Eighties music," Merlin replied noncommittally.

Arthur frowned. "You're listening to eighties power ballads."

"Yes. So?"

"You're listening to _You're the Voice_."

Merlin smirked and started singing along, happily off-key. "You're the voice, try and understand it. Make a noise and make it clear."

Arthur clapped his hands over his ears. "No you don't!"

Merlin kept singing, trying to pry Arthur's hands off of his ears. This led to a minor scuffle, which ended with Arthur, predictably, fighting off a pillow that had taken on life and was trying to smother him while Merlin blasted _You're the Voice_ through his phone's speakers.

(Merlin, Arthur quickly learned, adored technology and, furthermore, actually understood how all the wires and such went together. He'd taken apart his phone and put it back together three times already.)

"I hate you," Arthur growled, beating the magically animated pillow into submission.

Merlin straddled his hips and grinned down at him. "No, you love me."

Arthur tangled their fingers together, feeling and hearing their rings clink. "My own heart's root," he promised.

They didn't do a lot of talking after that.

And Arthur might—just _might—_have downloaded_ You're the Voice_ onto his phone.


End file.
